


Gone But Never Forgotten

by 5BlackRoses



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU a little, Aftermath of Civil War, Angst, Bed & Breakfast for a Biker Gang, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint has a family but isn't married, Deaf Clint Barton, Disappearance, Fix-It, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Not A Fix-It, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Happy Hogan, Steve being an ass, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Vision cooks, but she isn't exactly warm and fuzzy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 31,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5BlackRoses/pseuds/5BlackRoses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why is it that some people are never valued until they're gone? They didn't miss him, not really. But they needed him.</p><p>OR</p><p>Where, oh where, has Tony Stark gone? Where, oh where, can he be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Where is Stark?” were the first words out of Steve Rogers' mouth upon entering the Avengers Facility to find Vision dishing out chicken paprikash and spätzle onto plates at the kitchen island.

“Busy,” Sam guessed, coming in behind the Captain.

“Yeah,” Scott muttered, “busy up in his tower being a rich asshole.”

Wanda stayed silent, as did Bucky. “He's probably trying to destroy the world again,” Clint was still bitter that he couldn't find his family anywhere.

At that, Vision turned around, “I assure you, if it were Mr. Stark's intention to destroy the world, there would be nothing left by now.”

Steve could feel the tension in the room rising, “Look, just tell us where he is,” he said, in response to which he heard a mumbled, “who gives a fuck?” and a whispered, “I'm not sure I want to know.”

Vision dished out the last of the food, mixing the sauce from the chicken into the soft egg noodles on one of the plates. Hearing a the sound of wheels moving across the floor, everyone turned towards the far doorway to see a wheelchair-bound James Rhodes enter the room. “Well look who came back,” he laughed without smiling, “what do you want, Rogers?”

Sam backed up guiltily, remembering his role in the man's paralysis. Clint had already retreated to a corner, perching on the highest part of the counter he could find, and Wanda was inching her way towards Vision. Scott stood awkwardly, biting his fingernail, and Bucky had stopped just short of removing himself from the room. Captain Steve I have no respect for anyone but myself Rogers approached the Rhodes with a look of pity, “Colonel, how are you doing?”

The condescending question was ignored as Rhodes flipped the chair's brakes, “what do you want?” he asked again.

“Where's Tony?” Steve asked, hoping that the use of the inventor's first name might do something to ease Rhodes' anger.

The Col. had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying anything about how the other man didn't deserve to refer to Tony Stark with such familiarity. “Answer the question, Rogers.”

“Stark needs to replace Bucky's metal arm,” Steve stepped forward again, “he destroyed the first one,” was a feeble justification, and the Captain knew it.

“Tones doesn't need to do anything for you or your friend.”

“You don't get to make that decision,” Steve was well aware that he was on the losing side, but he never did know how to back down from a fight, especially one he had started, “just tell me where he is.”

As Rhodes released his wheelchair's brakes and spun towards the door, he was getting quite good at manipulating the contraption, especially after Tony had upgraded it, Vision spoke up again, “Tony has not been here for quite some time and no one will confirm seeing him in person for the last several months. There is, however, substantial evidence that he is still alive.”

Steve stood still, trying to process what he had just learned, while Sam followed Rhodes from the room. Vision handed silverware and a plate of food to Wanda, who had finally made her way to a stool 6 inches from him. He then moved to give plates and cutlery to Clint and Scott, and to the doorway to hand offer the same to Bucky. As the three men eyed the food suspiciously, Vision took a plate for himself, sitting down beside Wanda who was already eating. While no one knew what poison might do to Vision, it was accepted that Wanda was human enough not to be immune. Satisfied that it was safe, Scott joined them at the island and dug in. Bucky and Clint also began eating, but they remained where they were.

Eventually, Steve sat beside Scott and took the last remaining plate. He had to wonder at the number of portions Vision had prepared, seeing as while there was one labeled “Rhodes” that had been slipped into the refrigerator, there wasn't a plate left over for Sam. Who had Vision not expected or decided not to feed?

They ate in silence until Steve spoke up, addressing the ceiling, because he knew that an A.I. of some sort would be lurking in any facility designed by the inventor responsible for Iron Man. “Where is Stark?” he asked, looking upwards despite knowing that the A.I. wasn't located there, “I know he's not here, but they also said he is alive.”

“I believe the words used were 'substantial evidence,' and the Boss' last known location is classified anyway,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s Irish voice filled the room, “even if it weren't, I would tell you.”

Steve sighed, he had come to terms with a lot of modern technology, but he still couldn't wrap his head around AI's with attitude that voluntarily protected their creators. “What has Stark been doing lately?” he asked, prepared for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to tell him off.

“That information is not classified,” she told him, “but I don't feel like telling you.”

Cursing the genius' trust issues and his ability to create Artificial Intelligence with personality and apparently independent thoughts and feelings, the Captain tried again, “could you please pull up everything relating to him on the internet?” he requested.

A holographic screen appeared in front of him, but the news articles there were not arranged in any obvious manner and varied in relevancy over the last 7 years. Clearly, she was trying to make Steve's life harder. He couldn't remember J.A.R.V.I.S. having such a taste for passive aggressive revenge, but then again each of Tony's A.I.'s had their own tendencies and preferences, and his interaction with the original had been quite limited. “In order from most to least recent, please, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Steve looked over to see Clint laughing silently.

After a bit more arguing with the A.I., Steve managed to get the information into a somewhat readable format. Scanning titles, subtitles, and keywords, he learned that Virginia Potts, known affectionately by Tony as “Pepper” had resigned as CEO of Stark Industries and Tony had taken the position after being asked by both Pepper and the company's board, though different sources were conflicted over the resignation's permanency. It appeared that Stark was attending very few of his meetings and when he did, he attended by video or hologram. The press was suspicious of that, even going so far as to suggest that the “Civil War” between the Avengers had left Stark paralyzed worse than his friend James Rhodes. Another idea was that Ross was holding Stark prisoner and only allowing him to run S.I. to keep up appearances. Having not seen the man since leaving him bleeding in the Siberian snow, Steve was a little worried, though he wouldn't admit it, that he had permanently injured his ex-teammate.

From the internet, Steve, and by extension everyone present, learned that S.I. had been brought to never before seen success with new products from the R+D department. The main areas of advancement seemed to be defense, including missile interception and body armor, medical tech, especially braces and electro-chemical therapies that promised to “change the meaning of paralysis worldwide,” and affordable eco-friendly tech. Steve, however, found himself most interested in the articles that theorized about the disappearance of Iron Man and Tony Stark cutting ties with the Avengers.

When the Captain finally looked up from his reading, Wanda was washing the dishes as Vision dried them, Scott was video-chatting with his daughter, and Clint was examining an article about Stark Industries' solar car prototype that threatened to surpass the leading model within five years.  
Sam hadn't returned and Steve imagined that he was still trying to apologize to Col. Rhodes; he didn't like that Sam actively took the blame, but it wasn't in his control. Bucky was nowhere to be found.

“Friday,” Steve addressed her cautiously, “could you tell me where Bucky ran off to?”

“Sergeant Barnes would prefer to be alone,” Steve found the Irish accent quite pleasant when she wasn't directly angry at him.

“Can you tell me what he's doing?”

“He is, with my assistance of course, examining Stark Industries' foray into possibilities of combining the mechanical and the organic in relation to prosthetics.”

“Has he found anything that could replace the one Stark destroyed?” Steve was curious enough that he forgot to carefully phrase his words when talking to F.R.I.D.A.Y..

“I would remind you that the Boss was acting in self defense and detaching Sergeant Barnes from his arm was a preferable alternative to directing the blast towards a more lethal spot.”

“Point taken Friday, can you please just answer the question?”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. took a moment to respond. “Clearly you are not familiar with the concept of organic prosthetics,” she said with an intonation that made Steve think she was messing with him, “the damage to your friend's nerves and the tissue in his shoulder has severely limited his options for limb replacement.”

“That's why I need to talk to Stark,” Steve said angrily, “he owes Bucky a new metal arm,” the minute the words left his mouth he knew he shouldn't have said them.

“The Boss doesn't owe Sergeant Barnes anything,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. began, “if you recall, your friend murdered Howard and Maria Stark...”

“He was brainwashed,” the Captain interrupted.

“...and attempted to kill Tony Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. continued, “while free from mind-control.”

“Stark attacked first,” at that point Steve forgot he was arguing with an A.I. designed by and loyal to Tony, “it was his fault.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. was silent for a second. “At this point,” she said, “I feel it would be appropriate for me to employ what you might call, the cold shoulder.”

“Just let me talk to him,” Steve was beyond frustration, “open up one of those video-chat things.”

Steve brought his fist down on the counter when F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't answer him, startling Scott who had just finished speaking with his daughter. By that point the dishes had been washed and dried, and Vision was sitting on the couch reading the latest issue of the MIT Technology Review. Wanda was still in the kitchen area, sitting on a stool, idly spinning scarlet energy between her fingers; Clint had disappeared, likely into an air vent, and Sam had yet to return. The sharp click of heels alerted them to a new presence.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any mistakes

From the vent, Clint observed that Natasha was dressed not in her traditional catsuit or the casual clothing he had seen her wear on one of their rare vacations a few years earlier, but rather in a smart yet sexy business professional get-up similar to what she had worn while being Natalie Rushman.

He remembered the selfie she sent him while she was in Malibu and Monaco trying to keep Stark alive and he was in New Mexico on standby to assassinate Thor. That thought brought with it the memory of Phil Coulson and the grief that Clint hadn't been dealing with since the man's death. He remembered how, in New Mexico, Coulson mentioned Tony Stark several times, displaying a genuine fondness for the at-the-time-dying inventor. Clint had never really thought about it before.

While the archer debated dropping from the vent, Steve addressed Natasha with the same question he had been asking since his arrival at the building, “where's Stark?”

“Nobody knows,” was her clipped response.

Since betraying Tony for the second time, Natasha had been was reevaluating her behavior and attitude; her whole life really. All her old covers were blown, and the new ones were just that, new. She had nowhere to go, now that she had screwed up the only real home she'd known since before the Red Room.

“Stark's media presence hasn't been this non-existent since the months following the deaths of his parents,” Natasha continued, seeing Steve wince at the mention of Howard and Maria's deaths, and dropped a file on the island, “representatives from the U.N. are coming to meet with you tomorrow. I suggest you do your reading.”

Having said what she came to say, the redhead made to leave. “Wait, Natasha, can we please talk?” Steve got up to stop her, “We need to talk about what happened.”

The Russian spun on her heel to face him, “No Rogers, I have no need to talk about what happened. Talk to your very best to the end of the line friend. You said that you trusted me to save your life; that's what I did,” she paused, taking a moment to consider what she might say, “I have done a lot of horrible things in my life, I won't deny that. But one of the only mistakes I have ever made was betraying Tony Stark.”

Before the Captain could reply, Natasha was gone. Steve sat back down at the island and opened the file to read. If he was going to get himself and Bucky pardoned, he would need all the information he could get. Looking at the first page reminded him that Sam, Clint, Scott, and Wanda needed pardons too.

Up in the vents, Clint followed Natasha down the hallway; she was heading for the small workshop Tony had in the building. When she arrived, F.R.I.D.A.Y. refused to let her in. “Friday, I have given you all the required security codes,” Natasha reasoned, “please let me in.”

“New requirement,” the A.I. smugly replied, “In order to get access to Boss' lab, you have to convince me that you deserve it.”

Natasha frowned, “I want to make up for it,” she said, “I want to help Tony.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. hummed for a moment, “Boss doesn't need your help, Ms. Romanov. Contrary to the local belief, he is quite capable of functioning independent of those formerly known as The Avengers.”

“I know, Friday, but you can't say that he doesn't need any help at all,” Natasha leaned against the doorframe, “he should know I'm there for him.”

“When he needed your help, you weren't,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.

“I know,” Natasha acknowledged, returning to the original point of discussion, “I promise I won't touch any of his things other than the couch and maybe the bathroom.”

That seemed to satisfy the A.I. and she let Natasha into the workshop. Immediately, ex-spy collapsed on the couch, fully intending to take a short nap.

Tony had set up a luxuriously furnished bedroom for her in the Facility and at one point, he had gifted her a suite in the Tower, and there was a guest bedroom at the apartment that he knew she knew about, located ten minutes away by car, but Natasha chose his workshop couch anyway. She would never admit to herself or anybody else just why exactly she preferred that couch.

Before Natasha could close her eyes, Clint dropped down from the ceiling, landing right next to her. He hugged her tightly and she let him, because no matter how much she disagreed with his decisions and was appalled by his words and actions, and was just plain angry at him, she loved the man deeply. When they finally broke apart, Natasha looked up at the archer, though he would not meet her eyes. “Tasha,” he began, still staring at his lap, “I fucked up big time.”

She nodded, taking his hands in hers, but didn't say anything; she didn't want to lie to Clint, but she could offer him no truthful words of comfort. “What do I do?” he asked her.

“You stay here,” she chose her words carefully, trying to avoid the discussion of blame, “you supervise the meeting with the U.N. and you make sure everyone here is contained.”

Clint squeezed Natasha's hands gently, “Okay,” he agreed, taking a deep breath, “I can do that.”

“You also need to make sure Rogers doesn't do anything stupid.”

The archer turned his face away in shame, remembering the Captain's stupid decisions and his own stupid obedience that had led to the situation they were currently in, “I'll try, Tasha,” he promised, “but I'm not all that smart. Not like you are,” Clint was referencing a very particular type of intelligence, “I'm just a bum with good aim who follows orders.”

“Clint,” Natasha's tone was one of warning, “we don't have time to deal with your personal issues right now. You know how to compartmentalize; do it. I just need you to keep the situation here from getting any worse before I get back. Can you do that for me?”

Natasha hated to tell Clint to “suck it up,” but at the moment, she had other priorities. Once she had fixed the current situation, or at least done some successful damage control, she would try to get him the help he needed. “Friday,” Natasha addressed the ever-present A.I., “please get Clint the information he needs in that format Tony designed for his S.H.I.E.L.D. mission briefings.”

“As you wish,” the Irish tone was edging on petulant; the A.I. may have reached an impasse with the Russian, but she was still quite angry with the archer.

“Thank you,” Natasha, avoiding a conversation.

The redhead turned back to Clint, “I just need you to keep this situation from getting any worse before I get back, okay? Vision and Sam will probably help you.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the archer made a feeble attempt at humor, but Natasha knew that having a directive to follow calmed him, “where are you going?”

“I'm going to find Pepper and check on some of Tony's people. I'll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” Natasha massaged Clint's hands, hoping that finding the right people would be easier than it appeared; she wasn't sure how long Clint could last on his own.

“My family?” he asked her softly, knowing not to press any further in regards to her mission.

“They're safe, Clint. We made sure of that.”

“Who is 'we'?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

“Me and Tony,” Natasha replied, “we got them somewhere safe as soon as you left retirement.”

“Can I see them?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, “you know why.”

Clint nodded, he was glad that his family was safe and that Natasha didn't know about what he had said to Tony on the Raft. Suddenly, Clint was exhausted, and chose to lean towards his partner until his head rested on her stomach. Natasha ran her hands through his hair soothingly a few times before pushing him off and getting up. Her nap wasn't going to happen, so she figured that she might as well get going.

As she left, Clint sat on the couch rather forlornly, and Natasha hoped that she would be able to get him help soon. She was still angry at him, but she wouldn't be able to yell at him later if there was no one left to yell at. He needed fixing that she couldn't do, and the ideal person for the job was M.I.A. and angry, with good reason, at Clint. When she came back, Natasha would attempt to fix him, she owed him that and she hated to see him so messed up in the head.

For most of their relationship, it had been Clint fixing her and helping her. After especially tough missions, she had helped him, but Coulson was always there too. After Loki... it was Tony who pulled the archer from his overwhelming guilt and depression and helped him start living life again. After the Ultron mess and Pietro dying, it was Tony who put Clint back together, piece by piece, and convinced him to go stay with on the farm that they had all visited.

This situation was worse. Clint wasn't innocent this time. He was still a victim in a way, but he was far from the innocence of being brainwashed by a god or failing to save a new acquaintance. The archer was broken in such a way that she was afraid he couldn't be fixed. Natasha would do her best, but she was no Mechanic.

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	3. Chapter 3

As Natasha was making her way down the hallway, she heard angry not-quite-yelling coming from behind a door. It sounded as though Sam was trying to apologize to Rhodey again. He was the only person on the unofficial “Team Cap” that had bothered to apologize for the damage caused. Having a bit of extra time, Natasha entered the room to relieve the paralyzed colonel. “Wilson,” she stepped inside, “wait for me in the garage.”

Sam didn't hesitate in following the order and soon it was just Natasha and Rhodey in the room. “I've got to leave again,” she told him, “I've already talked to Clint about keeping Steve modulated, and I'll talk to Wilson about Wanda before I leave.”

Rhodey nodded, “if you send Mr. Wilson back up here when you're done with him, I'll try to explain what they all need to know. I get the feeling they might listen to him more willingly than to me.”

“Thank you,” Natasha replied, knowing to tread carefully around the man after her second betrayal of Tony, “The U.N. is coming tomorrow.”

She took Rhodey's curt nod as a dismissal, they were working together, sort of, but after her betrayal... Tony would probably forgive her long before Rhodes would. Natasha pushed away the thought that perhaps the inventor had forgiven her already, but would never trust her again, and went to speak with Sam.

“Look, Wilson,” she said, leaning against her car, “you need to keep Barnes and Wanda in check until I get back. No but's. I don't have time to explain what Rogers and Barnes did to Tony in Siberia or all the shit that Wanda has been doing since she turned eighteen, but I will when I can. What you need to know for now is that Rogers' decision making is completely compromised when Barnes is in the picture, and that Wanda doesn't understand that messing around in other people's heads, for any reason, is simply wrong. Got it?”

“Not really,” Sam replied truthfully.

“I don't have time to walk you through this,” Natasha was getting impatient, “the U.N. is coming to meet with you guys tomorrow. Whatever you do, don't let Rogers get in a position where he is making excuses for Barnes. He has shown over the last few months that he is not capable of rational thought and negotiation. You will have to be the voice of reason, not Captain America's backup sidekick.”

Without waiting for a response, Natasha got into the car and pulled out, speeding away before Sam could come up with an appropriate acknowledgment or even be offended by the sidekick remark.

Her first stop was the airport because flying commercial made less noise; if Pepper was still in the U.S., Natasha was almost certain that the fire-breathing businesswoman would be in Malibu. The Stark mansion on the sunny Californian coast had been completely and purposely destroyed after the Mandarin attacks, but if there was one woman in the world for whom Tony Stark would do anything, it was Pepper Potts. And Pepper really liked Malibu.

From what Natasha could understand, the mansion's destruction and rebuilding had been at the request of the very same woman, but the spy had long since given up trying to figure out the relationship between the billionaire inventor and his former PA.

 

* * *

 

 

As the redheaded Russian sat uncomfortably in a cramped window seat, turmoil was already brewing back at the Avengers Facility. While Natasha did her best to ignore the sexual advances of the not altogether unattractive middle aged man next to her, Sam listened to Rhodey recount the events that followed Siberia, no one knew quite what had happened there except the three who were present, and explain all the details of the Accords to which no one on “Team Cap” had bothered listening.

That evening, Clint, Sam, Wanda, Rhodey, Vision, Scott, and Steve sat around the fireplace in the common room of the personal floor. Steve was late, apparently the elevator had taken him up to the top floor, and dropped him to the basement level before allowing him out one level lower than were he'd asked. He'd given up, and used the stairs.

Rhodey offered a glimpse at his leg braces as moved to sit on the couch beside Vision. Steve sat in an armchair, Wanda sat on a separate couch, clutching a pillow to her chest, and Clint sat behind her on the back of the couch. Sam was sprawled comfortably a few feet away from the witch with Scott sitting awkwardly at the far end. Bucky had made an appearance, but had remained standing in the room's most shadowy corner.

Rhodey began. “The U.N. is coming tomorrow,” he said, “they want to talk to you guys about the Accords.”

Immediately, protests came from everyone listening save for Vision and Bucky. “If you don't want to be forcibly retired, you will listen to what they have to say,” he continued, speaking over them, “Thanks to Tony, the U.S. allowed you to reenter the country, and the U.N. is prepared to wipe all current charges against you, if you are prepared to negotiate reasonably with them. Given your actions in the past, I believe I should remind you that negotiation is expected to be completely verbal.” He looked pointedly at Steve, “you cannot punch your way out of this situation.”

When Steve began to protest, Bucky spoke up, his voice was quiet yet it drew everyone's attention, “He's right, Stevie,” Bucky said.

The Captain stood, moving towards his friend, “But Buck, look at what they've done to you...”

“No,” the former Winter Soldier interrupted, “you have to stop. What you did to them,” he indicated Clint, Wanda, and Scott, “was wrong.”

Everyone present was taken aback, Bucky had not spoken so much since they brought him out of cryo in Wakanda. Feeling all the attention on him, Bucky quickly fled. Scott sat, trying to process, and Wanda slowly got to her feet, “I will go now,” she said softly, and Vision followed her out.

Clint was the next to leave, disappearing before anyone noticed he had moved. Scott shook himself mentally, still trying to grasp what had just happened. He too left quickly, and then only Steve, Sam, and Rhodey remained in the room. “I will be in the meeting tomorrow playing middleman,” Rhodey told them, “right now, I'm disappointed with both you and the U.N., but I did make a promise to Tony that I would do what I could to keep you guys alive and out of jail.”

“Why does Stark even care?” Sam asked, not viciously, but not with particular kindness.

The colonel sighed when he was both men looking at him expectantly, “I don't know,” he told them, “you have given no reason for him to want you safe and free, but I do know that Tones cares about Ms. Maximoff, mostly due to the guilt that came from being blamed for everything that went wrong in her life, and he sympathizes with Barton and Barnes, and genuinely wants to help them both.”

“No.” Rhodey said with finality when Steve made to reply, “it's late, and relearning how to walk is exhausting,” Sam winced, “Rogers, tomorrow you will listen to the U.N. representatives and you will compromise. But for now, you are going to listen to me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some much needed explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did what I could to explain the U.N.  
> Also, what I said about the government doesn't necessarily reflect my personal opinions.

“Do you know what the United Nations is?” Rhodey asked, but didn't wait for an answer. “World War II officially ended on September 2nd, 1945, you took a nosedive into the arctic before then. The United Nations, also known as the U.N. was founded on October 24thth, 1945.”

The former colonel let the supersoldier digest the dates for a moment before continuing, “originally, there were 51 member nations. Today, there are 193. 117 of those nations believed in the Accords.”

Giving Steve the time to reply, Rhodey was met with silence, but when the colonel made to speak again, the Captain spoke up, saying something about political agendas. “The U.N.'s principal leaders come from all over the world, and change with time. It's mission is to foster cooperation between countries, provide humanitarian aide, and overall, prevent another world war.”

“It's a government,” Steve began, “the people who control it-”

“It isn't a government,” Rhodey corrected, “it has no one to govern. The U.N. has the power to send medical aide to displaced Afghani's, but has no control over the Afghani government.”

“Organization's like that are corrupt!” Steve exclaimed.

“Yes,” Rhodey agreed, stretching his back, “let's take the U.S. government as an example. In 1776, it was corrupt. And in 1876, and in 1976. Does that mean we should all stop following the law?”

“People in power-”

“That's the thing, Rogers,” Rhodey felt that the conversation was getting nowhere, and he wanted to go to bed, “people who were elected or placed in power have regulations and restrictions. Checks & Balances, voting, laws. You, on the other hand, have incredible power, given to you by the U.S. government, and yet you refuse to follow the law, accept restrictions, or be held accountable for your actions. Think on that.”

For once, Steve had an intelligent idea and he kept his mouth shut, simply nodding and exiting the room. Rhodey struggled to get back into his wheelchair until Sam came over to help. As Rhodey was about to leave, he turned to the other man, “You are a good man, Wilson, I've seen your service record,” he said, “I don't understand why you let your idol-worship get the better of the rational you that I know exists.” With that, Rhodey exited, leaving Sam to think.

In her room, Wanda tried to understand what Bucky had said. From what he said, she was starting to wonder if she had allowed someone to manipulate her, again. If that was the truth, she wouldn't know what to do. After her contributions to Ultron's creation and what she had done before joining the Avengers, Wanda had promised herself that she would never be used again; it was one major reason she was so against the Accords. Apparently she had no control over whether to be used, only who would be using her.

Clint returned to the couch in Tony's workshop, remembering the times that he had watched the engineer create, improve, and theorize. Though those memories came from the Tower and he had typically watched from the vents, the piece of furniture still smelled like Tony and the blanket beside him smelled like Natasha, and it comforted him. “Friday,” he addressed the A.I., “can I ask you some questions?”

“Of course,” the smooth Irish voice replied, “what would you like to know?”

Clint thought about it for a minute, “first, can you explain what Rogers didn't tell me, then can you show me what happened in Siberia, and then can you explain why Tony acts the way he does?”

“I will do my best, Mr. Barton,” she replied, her tone of voice clearly indicating that she was still quite angry with him, “there was quite a lot that Steve Rogers didn't tell you. Some of it is classified, but not all.”

After she had explained the original Accords,which she had to do several times due to Clint not understanding, F.R.I.D.A.Y. detailed Tony's modifications, “Boss was most against the registration aspect that required anyone with abilities beyond that of a supposedly normal human to identify themselves and be known by the government...”

“But Steve said Tony and Ross wanted us all to do exactly that,” Clint interrupted.

“The operating word being 'said,'” she replied, “It seems that part of your problem Mr. Barton, is that you don't question what you are told. General Ross most certainly supports and supported the forced registration of all mutants, inhumans, superhumans, and aliens, however Boss did not.”

“I'm sorry I can't be as smart as Stark; not everyone is a born leader,” he said, defensively.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. made a soft humming sound, “to my knowledge, there are very few entities in existence that could rival Boss in intelligence,” she said, “in I.Q. points and general knowledge and technical skill, you are far behind most members of your team, never-mind the Boss.”

Many adjectives could be applied to F.R.I.D.A.Y., but “nice” was not one of them. Acting like the incredibly intelligent teen she kind of was, the A.I. was not above being a brat, and like all teenage girls, she could be quite cruel. In addition, she wasn't too happy with 'Team Cap.'

“I know,” Clint agreed with what she had told him, hanging his head and staring at his hands.

“Mr. Barton,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. seemed to be speaking more gently, “I am not prepared for nor do I desire to deal with your emotional issues. If you would like, I could phone a friend for you,” she had been enjoying twisting these little sayings around lately, “Mr. Wilson and Vision are available.”

“No, please don't,” he replied, “can you just continue with what you were saying about Stark and the Accords?”

“As you wish,” she said, “I had nearly completed that part of my answer to your original query. Boss was not happy about most of the registration aspect of the Accords, and when he himself signed, he had already proposed several detailed amendments regarding the subject and had been given guarantees of the passing of several amendments by many influential U.N. personnel. He has made a few televised speeches, all of which are online and now available on your phone and laptop, in which he garnered support of these amendments by referencing the systematic persecution of groups deemed as 'other' throughout history. Specifically before and during WWII. To clarify...”

“I know what you're talking about,” Clint interrupted again.

“Then I'm sure you understand the danger of forcing the registration of a population and are familiar with the separation, segregation, and genocide that has followed,” the A.I. continued, “Supposedly, the main area of disagreement between Boss and Captain Rogers was the Avengers accepting oversight and the registration of the people in such a group.”

“What do you mean by supposedly?” Clint asked.

“I mean that this Civil War was not actually one of ideology, rather it was the Boss and his allies fighting for their ideology and the safety of the general public while the Captain and his friends fought for Mr. Barnes to be free from the consequences of his actions as the Winter Soldier.”

“Wait a second,” the archer held up a hand, “so does that mean Steve does believe in the Accords?”

“No.” the A.I. told him, “he does not. He fought for his friend under the guise of fighting the Accords, which he might have done anyway. Theoretically, if Sergeant Barnes had not been in the picture, so to speak, Steve Rogers would have been willing to work with the U.N. and Boss to come to a compromise, thus avoiding many physical injuries and millions in property damage. As it happened, a team of powerful individuals were gathered to protect one man.”

“Okay, that's not what I thought was happening,” Clint sighed, “I guess I really am stupid.”

“Mr. Barton,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. began.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, “you don't do feelings.”

They were both quiet for a moment until Clint spoke up again. “Why did Tony get us locked up?” he asked.

“Boss was not aware that you all would be sent away without trial. That was Ross' doing and was illegal in regards to the U.S. citizens in the group. That being said, you all committed serious crimes and imprisonment is the standard result of breaking so many laws without authorization from a higher power.”

“I think I understand,” Clint began, “When I was with S.H.I.E.L.D. I could break laws because they would take responsibility, but if we don't have any organization giving permission or taking blame, then we are just powerful people breaking laws, it doesn't matter why. That's what you're saying.”

“Maybe you're not that stupid after all,” F.R.I.D.A.Y., like all of Tony Stark's children and/or A.I.'s, was capable of snark, sass, and sarcasm.

“Tony locked Wanda up at the Avengers Facility,” Clint did his best to ignore what she had said about him, she may not have been a real person, but it still hurt, “why?”

“Boss instructed Ms. Maximoff to remain in that building for her own safety, similar but not identical to protective custody. She was seen in public using her powers to do something that while justified, cost many lives, and the public was upset. He was trying to prevent the use of restraints like the straight jacket and shock collar that were used to contain her on the Raft. She has been angry and reckless, and imprisonment of some kind was inevitable were she to leave. At the time, Ms. Maximoff was a danger to society, and in danger from society, and arguably still is.”

“But then I convinced her to break out and fight Vision,” Clint realized out loud.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn't respond, so the archer moved on to another line of questioning, “What happened in Siberia?” he asked.

“That information has not been made available to you by the Boss, however, both Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were there. Should you ask them, I advise that you take what they say with several large grains of salt. The Captain has lied to you and withheld information before.”

“As for the third part of your original question,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. continued, “there are many answers explaining why Boss acts the way he does, answers of varying degrees of falsehood.”

“What about the truth?” he asked her.

“There is no single truth of anyone's motivations. You should know that. Recounting the specific tragedies in Boss' life would take far too long, and he has forbidden the recounting of much of his history. You would have to ask him personally and even he may not be able or willing to tell you.”

Tired of cryptic half-answers and full answers that he just didn't understand, Clint gave up and sat back on the couch, knowing that he wouldn't be sleeping that night.

Two floors up, Wanda lay on her bed, still thinking. She had a fair number of questions, but most of them were for Tony and he was M.I.A.; the closest she could get to asking him was F.R.I.D.A.Y., and the A.I. had always made her feel uncomfortable.Wanda fell asleep asking herself why she hadn't thought for herself since the death of her parents.

Scott had fallen asleep in a comfortable armchair in one of the facility's guest suites; he was too tired to process everything that had happened. Sam knew he had to rest in order to prepare for the next day's meeting, but his sleep was plagued with images of a man falling from the sky; sometimes it was Rhodes and sometimes Riley.

Rhodey stayed up, thinking about his best friend. _No one deserves that much pain_ , he thought. He wished in vain that everyone could see Tony through his eyes, maybe then they would cut the inventor some slack or at least treat him decently. Then again, he cared less and less for what the former Avengers thought of Tony, and he just wanted them gone. He did know that the inventor cared about their opinions, though.

Vision, though he did not need sleep, usually meditated while other lay in bed, but that night he had particular difficulty calming his mind.

Like always, Steve Rogers slept like a baby. The painful memories only ever came during the day. Bucky sat beside his oldest friend and wondered how he would explain Steve's mistakes to the man himself, and if it was even possible.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha arrives in Malibu, Happy isn't so happy, and new acquaintances are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really like to hear what you guys think. I'm also really enjoying the theories about where Tony might be. 
> 
> Next Up: Steve Rogers vs. U.N.

On the other side of the country, Natasha exited the airport. Briefly she thought back to the handsy middle aged man who had been hitting on her for 5 hours; eventually she poisoned his drink to get him to shut up and keep his hands to himself. He would live, she hadn't killed anyone in a while, but he would have an incredibly painful week before the effects wore off.

Natasha took out her phone and dialed Happy Hogan's number, it was a long shot, she knew, but it was worth a try. When he did pick up, she wasn't quite sure what to say, so she began with simply addressing him, “Mr. Hogan.”

“Ms. Rushman, or should I say Agent Romanoff,” he replied, making no effort to hide the malice in his voice, “what can I do for you?”

“Would you mind picking me up at the airport?” she asked him, “I could hot wire any number of these cars, but that's illegal and I'm trying to stay out of jail.”

They both knew she would never even get caught for hijacking a car, but Natasha was trying play by the rules for the moment and Happy appreciated that, even though he was still quite angry with the woman. “I'll be there in twenty,” he told her after she gave him her location at the airport.

It wasn't her actual location, Natasha wasn't stupid, but she would make sure to be there when the man showed up. When he did, he was driving an expensive looking car but its model and abstract logo she didn't recognize. Sliding into the passenger side, Natasha was momentarily surprised that instead of lecturing or yelling or asking invasive questions, Happy simply asked, “Where to?” it was clear he had experience with Tony Stark.

“The mansion,” she replied, “I heard it got remodeled.”

Arriving at Stark's rebuilt Malibu mansion, Natasha barely contained a gasp. The building was gorgeous, complete with floor to ceiling windows, several balconies, and deliberately scattered arches, but she it was also the most secure building she had ever seen. There were no clear shots for snipers, no way to drive up close to the building itself, and not a single way to sneak in without crossing open expanses that would leave the intruder vulnerable.

Happy didn't smile, he was barely managing to keep his temper controlled, but he knew that Natasha was seeing both the beauty and some of the incredible security that characterized the new mansion. He knew, though she couldn't see, about the hidden cameras and A.I. controlled weapons that Tony had installed at some point. He parked in the circular driveway, and Natasha allowed him to open her door before climbing out. Together they walked up to the main door and Happy placed his hand on a scanner, said something like “Hogan +1 requesting entry,” and the door swung open.

The house was possibly more beautiful on the inside than the outside, but it also felt comfortable and welcoming. Normally that alone would make Natasha suspicious, but she had met Tony and Pepper and had been in at least four of Tony's residences, and she recognized the pleasant atmosphere as his doing; he knew how to make a house into a home.

Happy led her through the house to a spacious bedroom. She watched silently as he got towels and toiletries out of the hall closet, depositing them in the attached bathroom. She thanked him, though she wasn't planning on spending more than a night. Before leaving, Happy informed the Russian as to the locations of the kitchen, gym, and a laptop she could use. He threw her a bitter smile, “I'll be back to pick you up at 9:00.”

Natasha nodded to herself and was about to head for the bathroom when Happy popped back into the room. “You are not the only guest here,” he informed her, “please refrain from harming or threatening any of the other occupants. I assure you, they have the authorization to be here.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Hogan,” she said when he had finished.

He didn't respond.

The hot shower felt luxurious to Natasha and she found sample-sized versions of some of her favorite toiletries in the basket Happy had provided. She wondered if it had been intentional, but given her recent actions, it was far more likely that she and Pepper shared a love of certain bath products.

After showering, the Russian contemplated her next move, and decided to sleep. She didn't like doing it, but she acknowledged the necessity. The towels were thick and soft and Natasha left the bathroom wrapped in one, wondering what she would wear the next day or even to bed.

She didn't feel safe sleeping without clothes on, she had to be ready to escape at a moment's notice, but she was loathe to sleep in the dress she was wearing before; it would wrinkle horribly.

Natasha approached one of the dressers, not putting it past Tony to have a full set of clothes in her size. However, upon checking, the drawers were empty; clearly here presence was not expected or more likely not desired. The redhead tucked the towel tighter and left the room in search of clothing.

Natasha ended up sleeping in a large AC/DC t-shirt that was soft from wear and smelled slightly of engine oil. She hadn't found anything to wear the next day, but she was tired and that problem could wait. As she walked back to the bedroom, a small metal contraption came to hover beside her. When she wouldn't let it in the room, it began to make a noise that sounded like a sad whine until she gave up and allowed it through. Natasha tucked herself in and hoped that she would be able to sleep without too much dreaming. The last thing she remembered was the little metal thing snuggling, if it could even do that, into the covers beside her.

At 5:00 the next morning, Steve was already awake, punching a bag of sand in the gym. Bucky, who hadn't gone to sleep in the first place was sitting in the room where Steve had slept, staring out the window and thinking. At least he was trying to; they had gotten the trigger words pretty much taken care of, but his mind was still pretty jumbled.

Wanda was sleeping restfully at last after Vision waking her from several nightmares about losing her free will. The android himself was sitting beside her bad, reading an old issue of the IEEE Spectrum. He was still quite upset with the witch, but found himself aiding her anyway.

Sam was still asleep, as was Scott, and Clint, who had never gone to sleep, was playing a lonely game of darts in the workshop. It was a boring game too; with perfect aim and no competition, it wasn't even much of a distraction.

7:00 o'clock found Steve, Bucky, and Sam in the kitchen. Vision was still with a sleeping Wanda, Scott was also sleeping peacefully, and Clint was nowhere to be found; Rhodey had yet to arrive. Sam took on the responsibility to cook, not wanting to eat a breakfast from the 1930's again, that was a mistake he wouldn't make twice; simple bacon, eggs, and toast, he could do. Steve poured several mugs of coffee and got himself a glass of orange juice, while Bucky sat at the table, not doing anything.

True to character, Clint showed up when the food was ready and grabbed one of the coffees. Vision and Wanda appeared a few minutes later, the latter choosing to eat oatmeal instead of the bacon and eggs that were still available. Scott didn't show up until everyone was finished eating, but he quickly scarfed down all the remaining breakfast food and put his dishes in the clogged up sink. No one seemed to know what was wrong with it; by the afternoon it would be fixed.

They had all settled on couches to prepare for the U.N. meeting when Rhodey arrived.

 

* * *

 

 

On the other side of the country, Natasha woke to a soft alarm at 6:30. She debated hitting the gym, but she was still short on clothing, so she decided against it. The little metal thing that had joined her the previous night whined when she got out of the bed, but stayed put, tangled in the covers. Quietly moving out of the bedroom, cautious not to wake the other guests that Happy had said there were, Natasha went through other rooms and closets, trying to find appropriate clothing. She heard someone approaching, but kept her face hidden by the closet door until the person addressed her, “You looking for something?”

The redhead turned to find a young woman with dark hair and tanned skin watching her. She decided to try being friendly because Happy had instructed against the dismemberment of other guests. “Clothing,” Natasha replied, “I forgot to pack any.”

The woman gave her a knowing smile and beckoned, “come with me,” she said, “some of my things will fit you.”

On their way down the hallway, Natasha spoke up, “my name is Natasha,” she said, trying to appear friendly and not wanting to lie, but not trusting this new acquaintance.

“Daisy,” the girl said, “but some people call me Skye.”

“Which would you prefer?” the Russian asked carefully.

“Daisy works,” was the reply at the other girl opened a bedroom door, “but I'm fine with either.”

Natasha didn't respond as Daisy led her into the room and over to the dressers and wardrobe. She watched quietly as the girl took out several outfits, laying them on the bed. “Take what you'd like,” Daisy instructed.

Natasha picked one of the outfits quickly, and thanked the girl to whom it presumably belonged, “I'll get the clothes back to you if I can, but I make no promises.”

Daisy laughed, ushering the redhead out the door. Natasha returned to her room after making a detour to stop by the place where she had found the AC/DC t-shirt the night before. There she found a black hoodie which she took.

The hovering metal thing had yet to free itself from the covers when she got back, but it beeped happily at her return. Untangling it from the covers, she asked it, “Do you have a name?”

A morse code, “Alfie” was the response, quickly followed by, “Potts-Stark.”

Natasha laughed, patting him, she had decided he was a him for the moment, “Alright Alfie, would you mind stepping outside while I get dressed?”

Happy to be acknowledged and petted, Alfie exited the room, but made himself known by bumping the other side of the door repeatedly. Natasha dressed quickly, putting on the hoodie over the grey tanktop and black jeans Daisy had given her, and asked Alfie to show her the way to the kitchen, which he was glad to do, speeding ahead and then circling back every so often.

In the kitchen, Natasha found Daisy sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a laptop with a screen full of code. Alfie flew in varying patterns around the kitchen as the redhead fixed herself a mug of tea and grabbed an apple out of the bowl, deftly slicing it. Briefly, she wondered why the cabinets and fridge were fully stocked, but she figured that it had been the doing of another guest. She then sat down beside the other girl, Alfie settling in her lap. “So how do you know, Tony?” Natasha asked.

“Mutual hobbies,” Daisy said, indicating her computer screen, where she was most likely hacking some government agency, before she closed the laptop, “and a mutual friend.”

“Do you know where he is, then?” Natasha wondered, not even needing to hear the answer.

“No one's seen him in a while,” the hacker answered, “I've tried to find him, but while I'm _one_ of the best, Tony Stark is _the_ best.”

Natasha sighed, nodding. Even without J.A.R.V.I.S., Tony could break the world apart from behind a computer screen. Daisy grabbed one of the ex-assassin's apple slices, “what do you want with him, anyway?” she asked.

Natasha had been expecting the question sooner or later, “I want to make sure he's okay, believe it or not.”

“I don't.”

“And he is the only one who can help some friends of mine,” Natasha continued, “that, and someone has to tell the man that he did right and not everyone hates him. Since no one else is going to do it, I will.”

“I believe the first bit,” Daisy said, “but it doesn't really matter because you're not going to find him until he wants to be found. You should know that.”

“I do,” the redhead nibbled on a piece of apple, “but I have to try. On the way I'm checking on his people, at least the ones I know about.”

The two talked for a while, until Happy made his presence known at 8:30, announcing, “Ms. Johnson, your ride is here.”

Daisy grabbed her laptop, waving goodbye over her should as she left. Natasha pushed a mug of coffee in Happy's direction which he grudgingly accepted. “Is there a plan for today, Ms. Romanoff?” he asked her.

“I'd like to see Pepper,” she replied, “Can that be arranged?”

“I will do what I can,” he said, “in my personal opinion, Ms. Potts is in desperate need of human contact. Should she accept your visit, I may be able to start forgiving you.”

Happy left the room to make a call, and Natasha finished her apple slices, downing the rest of her tea. In her lap, Alfie spun in a little circle, whirring and nudging her stomach. Though she couldn't possibly guess what the little guy was thinking, Natasha took a guess, “I'm sorry I have to go, buddy. I'll try my best to be back for a visit before I leave the city.”

That seemed to settle Alfie and while he still whirred unhappily for a bit, he stayed still, almost resigned. Happy returned, smiling widely, “Ms. Potts has temporarily lifted her no-visitor policy for you,” he said.

The drive to visit Pepper took nearly an hour and a half. The arrived at 10:38 at an isolated property, far away from any civilization. The front of the building was mostly undamaged, a few scorch marks surrounding the doorway. Happy rang the bell, and Pepper answered immediately, opening the door to usher them both in. When the man moved to hug her, she backed away quickly, muttering, “No, I don't want to hurt you.”

Natasha looked around, noticing that while the building's structure remained intact, nearly every wall and piece of furniture as well as the ceilings, bore evidence of damage from fire and extreme heat. Happy exchanged a few words with Pepper and then he exited, promising to be back with lunch for the two women. Natasha and Pepper were then alone, and the house was silent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The U.N. meeting as requested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about this chapter, tell me what you think.
> 
> We'll be finding out a bit more about Tony in the next chapter, but theories as to his location are still welcome, because that detail has yet to be decided.

The U.N. sent 4 representatives to meet with the group, a young woman of Chinese decent, an older man with a slight Texan accent, a middle aged Russian man, and a man from the island of Dominica. It was deliberate show of the diversity of the U.N. and a display of people across the world being united in their opinions.

Though the representatives wanted to split the group up, each of them taking one or two of the former Avengers, but Steve insisted that he was present for everyone else's conversation, so they all ended up sitting in the conference room. Vision was not present, but Rhodey was; he sat between the groups to act as a mediator.

At one end of the oblong table sat the U.N. people, and at the other sat Rogers & Co. Steve was in the center, with Bucky and Wanda on either side of him. Clint didn't sit at the table, leaned against the wall in the room's back corner; Bucky would have liked to do something similar, but Steve would have protested and he didn't want to deal with that.

Scott sat on the other side of Wanda, next to Rhodey, and Sam sat across from the colonel, one seat down from Bucky. No one spoke for a long moment. Then the Texan man cleared his throat, “we would like to begin this discussion with Mr. Scott Lang. Any objections?”

Steve probably would have objected, but the man in question spoke up first, “no, no objections,” Scott said, “let's get this over with.”

“You do understand, Mr. Lang, that this will be far from the last meeting we have, correct?” the female representative asked.

He nodded, and they began. Of the group, Scott was probably the most innocent, but he had made some pretty big mistakes. The property damage he'd caused was the main topic of discussion, though aiding and abetting did make an appearance, and there were mention of him being an accessory to various other crimes.

Steve tried to object when it came to just about everything, taking the blame on himself or putting it on Tony, whether or not the rationalization even made any sense. Scott was a little annoyed by that, but he was also grateful to have blame taken off his head. He was a bit selfish and he knew it.

When his part of the meeting was complete, Scott considered leaving, but Steve gave him one of the 'Captain America wants you to do this' looks and he stayed in his seat.

Next, the man from Dominica addressed Sam. The conversation remained fairly civil, baring Steve's interruptions, until the representative brought up the deal Tony had secured to clear Wanda of the Lagos blame and make the 24 hours of Steve and Sam committing crimes in the name of helping Bucky, legal.

Apparently, Steve hadn't told the others about that deal. A growl-like noise was heard from Clint's corner, Wanda started crying, and Bucky turned his gaze to Steve with an expression that could have been disappointment. Sam, however, was the one who started yelling. “What the hell, man?!”

Steve immediately got defensive, trying to explain why he didn't take the deal, but no one was listening. After a solid 3 minutes of yelling, Rhodey stood up from his wheelchair, deciding it was as good a time as any to reveal his new braces; still he held himself up using the table, “Stop this right now!” he yelled.

Rhodes standing up was enough of a shock, to make the other yelling cease. He didn't answer their questioning looks, that could come later or not at all. “Calm down,” he spoke slowly and deliberately, “I'm here to play mediator, I agreed to do that even though I can barely stand to look at any of you. If I can do that, you can sit down and listen.”

The colonel collapsed back into his wheelchair, and everyone else was silent. Sam took a deep breath, “I understand the need to continue this conversation, however I need some air,” he addressed the U.N. representatives, “would you mind if I took a few minutes?”

The four had a quick whispered conversation, and the woman spoke, “no problem, Mr. Wilson,” she said gesturing to the door.

Sam left, and the topic turned to Clint. “Mr. Barton,” the Russian man addressed him, “please join us at the table.”

Reluctantly, Clint took the seat next to Bucky. “Why did you leave your family, come out of a peaceful, and I would say well-deserved, retirement, only to commit international crimes?”

Before the archer could respond, Steve spoke up, “it was me,” he said, “I asked him to come.”

The representatives ignored him, and looked to Clint for an answer. “Steve called and he said that Wanda needed help and Stark was going crazy.”

“That's all it took? You didn't ask any questions?”

The archer looked down in shame, but he didn't respond. They knew the answer already. “How responsible were you for the damage sustained by this facility?” the woman asked.

Clint had to consider that for a moment before answering, “I convinced Wanda to break out,” he admitted, “it wasn't right, Stark keepin' her locked up like that.”

“Considering your experience and her's at the Raft prison, you think that Ms. Maximoff was really locked up here? From what I understand, she had access to all the amenities of the Facility as well as the company of Vision.”

“Shouldn't I be answering this?” Wanda asked softly.

The representative turned to her, “this question is for Mr. Barton, regarding his rationalization of the situation. Your actions will be discussed next, “he turned back to Clint expectantly.

“If I had known what would happen, I'd have never convinced her to leave,” he replied, biting his lip till it bled, “I know what I did was stupid and dangerous.”

The man from Dominica shifted the subject, sensing that tensions were growing. “We received an analysis of your mental health, among other things, from an anonymous source,” the man began gently, “would you agree that being with your family brought back childhood issues that were never dealt with and could have influenced your recent decisions?”

“It's not their fault,” Clint responded immediately, “Barney and Laura have been real good to me. They didn't do anything wrong. Please don't hurt them.”

The representatives could tell that the man was panicking, and they were worried about a violent response. “Mr. Barton, your family will not be harmed. We've talked enough for today, we will have to talk more later, but for now, why don't you go take a break.”

“Thank you, Ma'am,” Clint replied, bolting from the room.

Wanda was still crying a bit, and she now had more to consider about Steve manipulating her. Clint had been the closest thing to a friend the Pietro had ever had, and he had been very kind to Wanda herself. A sharp “Ms. Maximoff, are you still with us?” jolted her from her thoughts.

“Yes,” she answered quickly, as Sam entered and returned to his seat.

The Chinese woman spoke kindly, “your case is quite complicated, and will require many more meetings. Right now, we would like to discuss the events following the incident in Lagos.”

Of course, at that point, Steve interrupted, saying how it wasn't Wanda's fault, but Sam managed to quiet him. To everyone's surprise, the following discussion did not center around Wanda's powers, rather it addressed similar topics to Clint's and Scott's. Apparently the U.N.'s anonymous source had also said something about her, but it wasn't specified exactly what.

Wanda fled quickly when she was allowed, Leaving only Steve and Bucky to be addressed, with Rhodey and Sam to keep the situation under control. Surprisingly, the U.N. representatives chose to deal with Steve before Bucky.

As the many crimes Steve had committed were listed, Sam was horrified, while Rhodey just appeared angry and a little sad. Of course, Steve chose to argue and justify all his actions, and Sam was unable to do anything about it. Bucky tried to say something, blame himself or calm his friend, but found himself unable to speak.

It was the Russian that chose to address Captain America's origins. “The Smithsonian exhibit says that you tried to enlist several times into the U.S. Army. What is doesn't say is that you lied and forged documents in your many attempts. It doesn't list the many reasons you were so unfit to be a soldier. You were слабый. Weak. You would have gotten your fellow soldiers killed trying to protect you.”

“The serum,” Steve began, but was interrupted.

“It made you a big strong man,” the representative said, his accent bleeding through more than earlier, “it made you more. More determined, more patriotic, more truthful, more entitled, more aggressive.”

“But it didn't make you a soldier,” Rhodey finished.

“I fought in the war, I saved lives!” Steve protested.

“You were given a rank that you didn't deserve. You forgot our core values. Loyalty. Duty. Respect. Selflessness. Honor. Integrity. Personal Courage. Does that sound familiar?”

“You were made it be a figurehead,” the Texan broke in, “to intimidate the enemy, to show America's strength. What you have shown us in recent months is your own strength to fight for only those you deem worthwhile and your ability to intimidate civilians across the world.”

“Steve's...” Bucky tried to speak, he might not agree with what Steve had been doing, but it was still his duty in life to protect his friend; that was the mission that kept him sane and it was all falling apart.

All eyes turned to Bucky, waiting for him to finish, “Steve is a good person,” he managed to get out.

The aforementioned person slung an arm around the former Winter Soldier's shoulders. It was all Bucky could do not to flinch away. “Even good people do bad things, Barnes, they make mistakes. I have no doubt Steve though he was doing right,” Rhodey said.

The U.N. representatives whispered amongst themselves. “Mr. Rogers, we will pick this line of conversation up at another meeting, we would like to speak with Mr. Barnes now. If you refuse to leave the room, we ask that you remain silent, and let him answer for himself.”

Sam cringed at just how on-the-nose the representative was about Steve speaking for other people, Rhodey might have smiled a little. Steve agreed to be quiet, and attention was turned to Bucky who promptly slid down in his chair. “How would you describe your mental health, Mr. Barnes,” one of the representatives asked.

“The words don't have control,” Bucky struggled to form the sentence, wincing as the words came out.

“He is referencing the words that trigger the Winter Soldier programming,” Sam explained.

“Is this true?”

Bucky nodded. The U.N. representatives had been making notes for the whole meeting, but at that moment, the notes increased in number dramatically. The next question was, “what about your memories?”

“Most are back,” Bucky bit his lip, digging his fingernails into his palm, “not all.”

“Would you be willing to attend sessions with a therapist?” the woman asked.

At the word “sessions” Bucky flinched, but the idea of a therapist instead of someone of explicitly higher ranking who was allowed to do as they pleased with him, was mildly reassuring. He nodded slowly, trying to form another words.

The rooms occupants seemed to see his struggle, and they waited patiently, looking at him with concern. “Alone,” he finally struggled out.

Steve appeared confused, while Sam was surprised. Rhodey nodded in understanding or approval, he wasn't sure which, and the U.N. representatives took more notes before asking any additional questions.

“You want to meet with the therapist alone?”

Nod.

“Just you and therapist, no one else?”

Nod.

“How do we ensure that you don't injure the therapist?”

Steve almost exploded at the question, and Sam had to lead him from the room. It took a bit of argument, but soon it was just Rhodey and Bucky with the U.N. representatives.

When the door was firmly shut and attention had returned to him, Bucky tried to form his answer. Without Steve around, it was actually a bit easier, but still quite difficult. “Restraints,” Bucky whispered.

“You would be willing to be restrained while meeting with the therapist?”

Nod.

“You want the therapist to be safe?”

Nod.

“Why is that important to you? That the therapist is safe?”

The sudden “why” question threw Bucky off for a moment. “Remember,” he finally replied.

“What do you remember?”

“Targets. Pain. Blood.”

“How does that have to do with a potential therapist?”

“Help.”

Rhodey saw the representatives' confused faces. “I think what he's saying is that if he hurts the therapist then they won't be able to help him and that he remembers all the Winter Soldier's targets and doesn't want anymore death on his hands,” he explained.

Bucky nodded vigorously. The answer was accepted, and all parties agreed that they had talked enough for one day, and that future meetings were required. Exiting the room, they found everyone gathered outside, waiting for them. Steve's first question was, “Buck, are you okay?”

His friend nodded, and that seemed to be satisfactory. At that point, the Russian representative chose to speak, “it is important for you to know that Tony Stark is worth more to us than any two of you combined,” the other representatives nodded their agreement.

“Tony Stark is invaluable to the entire world, whether or not the people know it. He was present before this разногласие". Now he is gone. That isn't good for anyone, especially you.”

They left one by one, trying to comprehend what had been said. Scott stayed behind for a moment to talk to one of the representatives.

Steve went straight to the gym to take his feelings out on a punching bag. _What had the Russian meant when he said “Tony Stark is invaluable to the entire world?” No one could be that important._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Ross

The meeting with the U.N. had gone better than anyone expected. That being said, there would be more meetings to come, very little progress had been made, and Steve was pissed.

Immediately after the meeting, Rhodey left to do physical therapy, and everyone else gathered for a late lunch. Sam made fish tacos which everyone seemed to enjoy, but the meal was still silent and a bit awkward.

As they were all finishing up, Scott spoke. “I'm leaving to visit my daughter,” he announced, “the U.N. people said it was okay and that she would be safe.”

Steve wanted to protest, but he didn't; as long as Scott came back soon and was still on his side, there would be no harm done. He gave the man a curt nod, “Of course.”

Vision settled himself on the couch with the latest issue of Aviation Weekly, and Wanda disappeared into her room, intending to think over what the U.N. had said about her. Her powers hadn't been addressed too much, the discussion had focused on her loyalties and her work with the Avengers. One thing that the Chinese woman had said really stuck in Wanda's mind; the representative had pointed out that after her parents death, her loyalties had shifted every few years, from the protests in Sokovia, to Hydra and Ultron, to the Avengers, and finally to Steve Rogers, the only constant being Pietro who was now gone.

Wanda tried to consider her options, racking her brain for several minutes before realizing that she didn't have any. The Avengers were affectively gone, Steve was spending all his time caring about Bucky, and Vision was still upset with her for what had happened when she'd escaped the Facility at the start of this “Civil War.” She'd never held a job, Pietro had kept them fed back home before Hydra, and after that housing and meals were provided, so Wanda simply practiced her magic or watched TV. Now that she didn't have anymore training or fighting to do, Wanda was lost.

Clint returned to the workshop after the meal, not really knowing what to do. Natasha had asked him to keep things stable, but he hadn't even been able to handle staying for the entire meeting. He was ashamed, sad and incredibly frustrated, all of which made sense, but the feeling that Clint couldn't understand was the fear. The U.N. had promised not to hurt his family and he had been desensitized to torture over the years, but the fear remained.

Sam left after the meal to visit the local V.A., he wished that he hadn't quit his job in D.C. because at least then he would have something to go back to. At this point, his wings were gone, he had no job, and he was starting to seriously doubt his recent choices. Inside, the urge to bolt was engaged in a violent battle with his need to stay and help the damaged people surrounding him.

If it weren't for Bucky, Steve would have gone directly to the gym to take his anger out on a bag of sand, but as it was, he didn't know what to do. He hadn't heard all of the conversation between his friend and the U.N. representatives, but he hadn't liked where it was going when he was led out. The Captain approached his friend who was sitting silently in the corner, watching the doorways and the room's occupants. “Buck,” Steve began, approaching slowly, “do you want to come work out with me?”

The two ended up sparing, because despite Steve's misgivings, it was what Bucky agreed to do and Steve would never deny him anything.

It was getting dark by the time Ross decided to visit. Upon entering the common room where the group had gathered, the first words out of the man's mouth were, “Where is Stark?”

“We haven't seen him,” Steve answered for everyone.

“You're telling me he spent hours forcing, manipulating, and cajoling the U.N. into granting you lot another chance and yet you haven't seen him. Don't lie to me.” It seemed like Ross' default tone was condescending.

“What did he do that made you so angry?” Steve asked calmly, not quite sure how to handle the situation; Tony had a habit of making people angry.

“I'll tell you what that cunning little bastard did,” Ross was getting more worked up by the second, “he hacked my personal computer. He sent information about me to Congress. He cost me my career. He – .”

“That's enough,” the Captain interrupted, “if you don't have your job anymore, then you don't have the clearance to be here. I'll escort you out.”

When Steve returned from forcibly removing Ross from the Facility, everyone present looked to him expectantly. “Why is Ross so angry with Stark?” Wanda asked.

In the corner, Clint turned the volume on his hearing aids up so he could hear the answer, noticing that several people winced at the whine the devices emitted.

In a fit of rage after being freed from the Raft, the archer had destroyed all StarkTech he owned, except for his bow; he didn't have the heart to destroy his favorite weapon. Still, he no longer had his custom made hearing aids, specially programed phone, and unreleased prototype tablet, all of which had been gifts from the inventor. The tech he had gotten upon returning to the U.S. was decent, but it was nothing compared to what Tony had made specially for Clint years earlier. His hearing aids were crap, but they were all he could afford with the money he had available.

Apparently, Clint had missed the second half of Wanda's question, but listening to Steve's answer gave him a clue. “I don't think they were ever friends,” the Captain was saying, “but looking at his history, Tony has no issue laying with the devil,” Clint had to bite his tongue at that to keep from starting an argument.

“Friday, do you know why Ross is so upset?” Steve asked the ceiling.

When the Irish voice didn't answer, he was forced to explain. “She isn't speaking to me,” he told the others.

Sam had to stifle laughter at the petulant teenager of an A.I. who was stubborn enough to give Captain America the cold shoulder. “Would you be willing to tell me?” he asked.

“Boss was working with this man because of his high position in the government,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, “he had been amassing the data that was sent to Congress for many years, through legal methods. It was not a computer hack, however I have informed the proper authorities that corroborating evidence may be found on that device.”

“Aside from him being a despicable human being, why did Tony have such a grudge against Mr. Ross?” Vision asked, “Why did he take so much time to turn in the information and why has no one else?”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. hummed, “Among the many illegal and morally questionable activities in which Mr. Ross has engaged over the years, a persecution of Dr. Bruce Banner was foremost. Boss was called in to clean up that situation long before he met the doctor preceding the Battle of New York.”

The A.I. paused before continuing, “no one else has found the appropriate evidence and turned it in because there is no one with the intelligence and skill to rival the Boss, who could not be kept quiet with threats or money.”

Everyone in the room was quiet for a bit, taking in what she had said. Vision, always the first to fully process information, spoke again, “the considerable length of time this data collection took remains confusing to me. Perhaps it is something human that I will never understand, but I don't doubt that Tony had enough information to hurt Mr. Ross years ago.”

Clint had a sudden revelation and answered before the A.I. could. “Stark didn't want to hurt Ross. He wanted to destroy him, but only after he used the man as necessary. That kind of intelligence gathering, especially by only legal means, takes time, even for a genius.”

They all looked at Clint in shock, wondering how he could possibly know that. “I may not be a genius,” the archer explained, “but I was an agent for a long time. I know intelligence collection. It takes time if you want something to stick.”

“Okay,” Steve said slowly, “mystery solved, but we still don't know where our wayward inventor has gone, and apparently neither does the government.”

“At least the part of the government that Ross had access to,” Clint added.

“I could convince anyone who knows to tell me,” Wanda offered, she hadn't used her powers beyond the physically visible in a while and was missing it.

From the doorway, Bucky glared at her. He knew too well what it was like to not be in control of his own mind, and wouldn't wish it on his enemies. Wanda flinched slightly under his stare, and Bucky almost smiled, but he would never take joy out of being feared ever again.

Sam cut the tension by approaching her, “I think we need to have a conversation about consent, Wanda,” he said leading her from the room.

“So who do we ask about Tony?” Steve got the people left back on topic, “If Rhodes doesn't know where he is, who will?”

“Maybe Col. Rhodes does know,” Clint suggested, “he just won't tell you.”

“Why would he do that?” Steve seemed genuinely confused.

“I would suspect that the colonel is aware of the state in which you two left Tony Stark in Siberia. According to my calculations, at the time of your departure, his chance of survival was at a maximum of 15%,” Vision paused, “It rose to 20% when we were informed of his location, and did not go over 50% until after the first two surgeries.”

“How many surgeries were there?” Clint asked, doing his best to remain calm, “What happened in Siberia?”

“Look, it's a long story,” Steve began.

“There were 7 surgeries in total,” Vision interrupted, “though an argument could be made for 10.”

Seeing everyone's confusion, the android tried to explain, “7 surgeries were conducted by medical professionals. The other 3 that I know of, were conducted by Tony, on himself. As for what happened in Siberia, only Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes can tell you that. I would show you the medical report, however it has mysteriously disappeared in all its physical and digital forms.”

It wasn't difficult to understand what Vision was implying. “I need some air,” Clint said, moving towards the door, he wanted to press Steve for information about whatever had happened in Siberia, but he wasn't sure that he was ready for the answer.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Natasha talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit short, but I'm working on more. 
> 
> This does offer some of the explanation that was requested.

In the outskirts of Malibu, Pepper and Natasha sat together, staring out at the ocean. It turned out that either the businesswoman didn't know where her ex-boyfriend and former boss was, or she wasn't in the mood to be sharing that information which would be unsurprising.

With Virginia “Pepper” Potts, the best way to get information was usually to ask the woman directly, so that's what Natasha did; it wasn't really her style, but she could adapt. She did however, have to tread carefully.

Pepper was understandably upset with Natasha for betraying Tony's trust, and she wasn't about to tell the other woman exactly why Tony Stark's trust was so rarely given and so valuable. However, the former CEO was an intelligent woman and she knew that Natasha could be used to do some of the things that Pepper couldn't at the moment.

“Why did you two break up?” Natasha asked, changing the subject.

Pepper laughed humorlessly, she hadn't gotten over it. “It's complicated. Everything just added up I guess. I was going through a rough patch, and Tony was going through something much worse, he was having some serious problems, and then there was the whole thing with the Mandarin and Extremis.”

“I thought Tony cured you or fixed it or something,” Natasha broke in when the other woman paused.

“That's what no one seems to understand. There was no cure, there isn't one. Tony stabilized it, an incredible feat at which many others had failed, but it changes your DNA, and that's irreversible. I'm not a time bomb anymore, I'm not a danger to myself, but I'm still dangerous to others, when I'm not in control. With the stress of running SI and worrying about him out being Iron Man, I couldn't handle it. Clearly,” she gestured towards the burn marks that crossed the nearest wall, her skin turning slightly orange.

What Pepper didn't tell Natasha was that Tony tried it all on himself before even offering it to her. He hadn't wanted to leave her either; promising that they would learn to control it together. She had insisted, saying that it was something she had to do on her own.

Since she first met him years earlier, Tony had helped Pepper with every problem she had, fixing things physically and offering advice, a sympathetic ear, and a shoulder to cry on, as needed. She may have once been his PA, but it had always been him assisting her when it came to personal things. Though he might have forgotten her birthday, Tony would never forget her favorite ice cream or the little signs and gestures indicating that she needed to be held and comforted.

Tony managed to control the Extremis in himself once he got it stabilized, but he was a master at keeping things inside, and nobody really knew what other substances could be floating around in his body. After the surgery in Afghanistan for which he had been awake and un-anesthetized, Tony would never willingly let anyone have access to his blood, tissue, DNA or implants, ever again. As a result, he was his own doctor and no one knew anything substantial about his altered biology.

When he got low, Tony would drink, that was well known, but when he got really low, he had a nasty habit of experimenting on himself. Pepper and JARVIS were the only ones who knew because the only other people the inventor would trust with that kind of information were Rhodey and Bruce, both of whom would freak if they found out. If Tony didn't trust his best friends with that secret, Pepper wouldn't be telling a woman who had built her life mostly on lies.

With a sigh, Pepper continued. “He destroyed the suits and the house and started over. For me. But he couldn't give it up, I should never have asked him to. After what Wanda did to his mind that made him create Ultron, and everything that happened before, Tony wasn't doing well. I couldn't handle all the self-loathing. Seeing how messed up he was, I lost control and set off the Hulk.”

“Bruce was around?” Natasha asked, incredulous, knowing not to press for details on the inventor's past trauma's the ex-CEO had referenced; the trauma that she did know about was enough to crush any normal person, and she didn't event know half of it.

Pepper nodded, her fingers turning a fiery orange, “Tony had just managed to get him out of hiding, and I sent him right back. I couldn't handle doing anymore damage, so I signed over the company and left him. I knew he would survive; he's the strongest person I've ever met.”

The Russian ex-assassin was silent for a long moment. “What did you say when you dumped him?” she asked, doing her best not to back away from the other woman; she had no idea how dangerous Pepper might be, still she wanted information,

Not being the question Pepper expected, it took her a moment to answer. “I told him that he deserved someone better, someone who wasn't dangerous, someone less selfish, who could handle sharing him with the world. It wasn't the truth and he knew that. He told me that there was no one better, and that he would never love anyone else the way he loved me. That was the last thing he said to me.”

They sat in semi-companionable silence for a while until Happy arrived with lunch. The three of them chatted for a bit, and Natasha prepared to leave, but not before asking Pepper where Tony was or at least how to find him.

Natasha had known that asking would be risky, but she hadn't know quite how horrendous an idea it was. Pepper's arms and face turned orangey red, and suddenly, the wall was burning. Happy calmly pulled out a fire extinguisher and took care of it, as if it was to be expected. He then excused himself, saying that he would wait in the car.

“You have no right to ask that!” Pepper yelled, “after everything you've done!”

Natasha nodded, “I messed up, I know that. I'm trying fix it.”

The other woman shook her head, “some things can't be fixed,” she said, “and some shouldn't be. If you really want to wipe all that red from your ledger, join the PeaceCorps or something.”

“Tony told you about that?” Natasha asked, one night when they were both running from their dreams, she had confided in him about the conversations with Loki and Clint during New York; he had promised not to tell anyone, warning her that Pepper didn't count in that anyone.

“We don't have secrets. He tells me everything,” the businesswoman began to tear up, “at least he used to.”

Eventually, Pepper calmed down and told the ex-assassin that she didn't know where the inventor had gone and that if he wanted to stay hidden, not even someone as skilled as Natasha would be able to find him. Before joining Happy in the car, Natasha promised Pepper that she would be sending someone to help with control.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda and Sam have a little chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some mention of rape used as an example. if that is going to be a trigger, skip to the break.

Sam led Wanda to a small-ish lounge room. She settled on a couch and he sat in a chair, it felt more like a therapy session than a lecture. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

“Wanda,” Sam began, “do you understand why we are having this conversation?”

“Because I upset Bucky,” she guessed.

“No. We are here, talking about this, because you don't seem to understand the concept of consent.”

Wanda recoiled, “of course I know about consent,” she replied.

Sam raised his eyebrows, and slowly she settled back onto the couch until she was ready to listen again. Sam had no plan for the conversation, so he took a minute to think. “Medical procedures, sex, even a therapy session, require consent of all parties before anything happens.”

“I know that!” Wanda glared at him.

“When consent is not given in medical and therapeutic capacities, there are laws in place, rules and punishments for the offender. In the case of sexual consent, the crime is called rape, and it is also illegal and immoral,” Sam continued, ignoring her, “the main difference between assault and boxing or other kinds of competition fighting is that consent was given in the later situations.”

The witch stayed quiet, hearing his words even if she wasn't really listening. Sam took another deep breath, trying to find a way in which he could gently tell her that she had been effectively mind-raping people. “Even fighting in a war is a form of consent, yet it is still considered wrong to rape or perform non-essential medical procedures on the individual members of opposing forces or civilians. Is this making sense?”

Wanda shrugged, “I guess, kinda.”

“Your powers, are amazing,” Sam said, “but what you have done with them, is very wrong... See, most people believe, or they used to, that they may not be safe physically, but what is in their heads is private and cannot be accessed without their consent. Powers like your take away that safety and privacy.”

The witch thought about what Sam was saying, realizing the logic of his words. “I can't help that,” she protested.

“No, you can't,” he agreed, “but your actions contribute to this fear that is spreading, which is also hurting others with powers similar to yours. Think about it this way: while only 6% of men are rapists, more than 80% of rapes are perpetrated by men, thus it is logical to fear men. If it didn't happen, there would be far less fear. It would still be there, but not as much.”

“You're comparing me to a rapist!” Wanda was outraged, “how could you?”

“That's basically what you're doing!” Sam yelled back at her, “ you are entering others' minds without their consent and messing around in there. You cause lasting mental damage and well reasoned fear!”

Wanda calmed down a bit, becoming less angry and more contrite. Sam continued. “Telepaths exist. But they mostly know better than to mess with others' heads without asking. Sometimes hearing or feeling things is uncontrollable, or so I've heard. But mind-raping someone is always deliberate.”

“I didn't think about it like that,” Wanda said softly.

“Well, now is a good time to start,” Sam told her, “my mind has been fairly safe so far, I think, but I can only begin to imagine the feelings and doubts that would follow being messed with up there. Try to imagine what it would be like to not know what was real, what was created in your head by you, and what was put there by someone else.”

* * *

Sam and Wanda came in to the common room together that night, the latter appearing more contrite than ever before. Vision, of course, was cooking with the available ingredients, while Steve sat at the table. As usual, Bucky lurked in the shadows by the door, ready to make a quick escape if necessary.

Clint didn't show up at all, which surprised everyone; the archer was known by friends for his love of food. Rhodes had been invited, the Captain wanted to continue questioning him about Tony's location, but he hadn't arrived yet when they started eating.

As they all settled down, Steve looked suspiciously at Sam, wondering what the man had said to Wanda. Soon, the conversation turned to the U.N. meeting. Steve was unhappy about everything the representatives had said. He chose that moment as a forum for expressing his complaints. “I don't like how they talked to Bucky,” he was saying, “they treated him like a criminal. He was being controlled, it wasn't his fault.”

The former Winter Soldier stayed quiet, mildly irritated that his friend was talking as if he wasn't present, though he knew that forming words himself would be nearly impossible. Vision tried to be the voice of reason. “We all understand this point, Captain. However, it is not unreasonable for them to want an analysis of Mr. Barnes mental health before pardoning him for his crimes while under HYDRA control.”

“I've said it before and I'll say it again,” Steve put on his 'I am Captain America, don't argue with me' voice, “the government is run by people with agendas. I don't trust them. They don't care about Bucky, they just care about their politics.”

At that point, Rhodey entered, “It's not their job to care about your friend. It's their job to care about the safety of civilians and infrastructure,” he said.

Everyone was so surprised by the colonel's arrival that they stayed silent. “Do you have any idea how many people you hurt in helping Sergeant Barnes?” he asked, “how much damage you caused? In a way, what you've done is worse than what Barnes did as the Soldier. He stayed in the shadows and took out only the target, no one else. You on the other hand, led to the death of innocents, bystanders, destroyed public and private property, and scared the general public.”

A very small, wounded noise, almost like a whimper, came from Bucky's corner, but it was either not heard or it was ignored.

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Sam stopped him, sensing that Rhodey had more to say. “You shouldn't be this naïve, Rogers. Who's going to pay for repairs? For medical bills? Funerals? Who is going to take responsibility for the emotional and psychological damage? Tell me, please!”

The whole room was silent, waiting for something, though no one knew what. “I was doing what was right,” Steve justified.

“No, Mr. Rogers,” Vision said calmly, “you were doing what _you thought_ was right. Intentions, however pure, don't buy forgiveness or rebuild buildings.”

“But what about New York?” Steve asked, still trying to justify himself, “and Sokovia. And D.C.?”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. chose to answer that question, apparently no longer ignoring Steve completely. “Loki took general blame for New York while the financial responsibility was shared by S.H.I.E.L.D., the U.S. government, and Tony Stark,” she said, “Boss also took full blame and responsibility for Sokovia, though by the most generous calculations, at least 60% of it should have fallen on the Maximoff siblings, Dr. Banner, and Dr. Cho. combined. As for D.C....”

Sam cut the A.I. off before she could finish. “Okay, point taken,” he said, “if we could all calm down...”

Of course, Sam was ignored, and the arguing continued. Steve also expressed his displeasure at how the Russian representative had spoken about his brief stunt in the military. That set Rhodey off, and all the shouting combined with the palpable anger sent Wanda running from the room. Bucky didn't seem to be taking it well either, he ended up crouched in his corner, hitting his forehead with his flesh hand and rocking back and forth.

The arguments persisted until they were all exhausted and began leaving one-by-one. Eventually, Steve was sitting with Bucky, everyone else gone. “I just wish they would understand,” Steve said, dropping his head to the table.

Bucky didn't respond. Steve laughed bitterly, “it'll be okay, Buck,” he promised, “even if it's just you and me against the world.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Malibu

In Malibu, the weather was fair, but in Natasha's mind brewed a storm cloud of Thor-like proportions. The meeting with Pepper had gone almost as expected, the main difference being that in the Russian's projected version, the other woman had tried to kill her.

Looking back, Natasha amazed at the power of Extremis, even once it was stabilized. She hadn't been surprised that Pepper didn't reveal Tony's location, but it did set off alarm bells that the fire-breathing businesswoman didn't see to actually know where her ex-boyfriend and ex-boss was. That in itself was concerning given that she was always up to date on all things related to him. If Pepper Potts didn't know every thing that was going on in Tony Stark's life, something was very very wrong.

“Are you free for the afternoon, Happy?” Natasha asked from her seat beside him.

“Did you have something in mind?” the man countered.

“I would love to have dinner with you tonight,” she replied, dialing up the charm.

She could see Happy try desperately to resist her allure and subsequently fail. Only four people had ever successfully resisted her. He agreed to dinner, knowing that she would want to know where Tony had gone, but not having an answer for her to weasel out of him. “Ms. Johnson informed me that some shopping might be in order,” he offered, recovering himself.

Natasha didn't reply, and soon the car was parked near the Malibu Lumber Yard. Handing the ex-assassin a wallet that contained cash, credit cards, and false identification, Happy took a seat in one of the courtyard areas. “I have some SI business to take care of,” he explained, his voice holding no emotion, “enjoy yourself.”

Though she was a bit uncomfortable taking the money, Natasha knew that she had no choice but to accept. If Tony had talked to his head-of-security, the man would have most likely been far less generous with his Boss' money, but as it was, morals were pushed aside in favor of the mission. She did however briefly consider that Pepper and Happy were using her for something. They were by no means oblivious individuals, and they were quite protective of Tony so their generosity didn't sit right with Natasha.

* * *

Several hours later, the trunk and back seat of the car were filled with shopping bags, and the two were having a pleasant, if slightly awkward, meal. “How is the company doing?” Natasha asked politely, delicately taking a bite of salmon.

“Business is booming,” Happy replied curtly, “Security is tight. The Board is unhappy, as usual.”

“But not for the usual reasons,” she prodded, “Stark hasn't been attending meetings?”

“That's not exactly unusual,” he laughed bitterly, “Boss never liked Board meetings. But he always went to the appropriate events, traveled to the right places, kept the press satisfied. He made sure to be where he was needed.”

Natasha nodded. It seemed like everyone was hurting due to the genius' absence; not that she could really blame him for bailing.

Happy looked on the verge of tears, so she decided to keep him talking; hopefully he would reveal information he didn't know he knew, all the while not balling publicly. “I didn't think he was fond of any kind of events.”

Of course, she knew the answer, but it getting the man to reminisce distracted him from his anger at her, and served as a decent diversion from his melancholy over Tony's absence.

“Ms. Potts made sure he went to the necessary ones,” Happy told her, “she could rarely get him to go to Board meetings, but he went almost willingly to meetings with the R&D department.”

“He seemed to enjoy the more lively parties and benefits,” Natasha mused.

Happy almost snorted, but he was far too much a gentleman to do so. The Russian continued, “I recall quite a few spirited events in Dubai, Vienna, Caracas, and Johannesburg, among others.”

“When you're running a multi-billion dollar international business, a certain amount of elbow-rubbing is necessary,” Happy replied.

The man kept talking as he ate, “Boss liked the travel, going different places. He always said that he wanted to make it to every country in the world.”

“Even North Korea?” Natasha joked.

“Even North Korea,” Happy replied, completely serious.

* * *

When they had finished the meal and were driving back to the mansion, conversation slowed and eventually stopped; they really had nothing to say to each other. Happy walked Natasha into the house and they paused in the kitchen were he turned to her, deadly serious. “You have betrayed Tony Stark twice now. How do I know you won't do it again?”

“You don't know,” she replied carefully but not without an edge to her voice, “I could promise, but I doubt you would believe me.”

“Then I suppose a threat is in order.”

“Oh?” _Threatening the Black Widow was not advisable. Ever._

“Should the information that I am giving you the chance to find, end up in the wrong hands, your life will become more miserable than you could possibly imagine. You will wish you were dead but be unable to end your own life. Do you understand?” Happy didn't wait for an answer, “I'll pick you up at 8:00.”

With that, he dropped a boarding pass on the table and left.

The flight's destination was Tennessee, and Natasha figured that it couldn't hurt to check out “Rose Hill,” which was written on the back of the boarding pass. It could be a town, a person, a hotel, or even an actual hill, Natasha had no way of knowing yet.

She was pulled from her thoughts by Alfie showing up and announcing himself by bumping her shoulder repeatedly. Natasha had an idea of how to help Clint, at least temporarily, while at the same time, not leaving Alfie by himself for too long.

“Can you travel cross-country on your own?” she asked him as they moved towards the room in which she intended to sleep.

Taking the blink of a green light as an affirmative, Natasha smiled, “how would you feel about helping a friend of mine at the Avengers Facility?” she asked, discarding the clothes Daisy had lent her in favor of the soft AC/DC t-shirt.

Alfie let out a sad whine before telling her, “Alfie go with spy lady,” in morse code.

Natasha patted him gently, “I've got to do this one by myself,” she explained, “my friend, Clint, needs you.”

The bot made a noise that sounded like a question. Alfie spun in a circle and hovered for a second before settling on the bed.

“Because he's really sad, and until I can find Tony, I don't know how else to help him. I think he'll really like you, though. You could make him a little happier,” Natasha spoke to Alfie like a little boy in the same way she treated F.R.I.D.A.Y. like a teenage girl.

The little bot let out a puff of air, “Daddy don't want finding,” he communicated.

Even a cold-hearted former assassin like Natasha couldn't help smiling at the bot calling the inventor, “Daddy.”

She climbed into bed, lifting the bot into her lap and stroking his side. It felt a little awkward, but Alfie seemed to enjoy it, humming softly in appreciation. In the past, Natasha had seen Tony petting the bots in his labs, yelling at them, reassuring them, and all around treating them kind of like humans or animals. She had always thought he was more than a bit crazy and talked to the bots because he was lonely and couldn't connect with humans, but she was beginning to understand just how human the bots really were.

“I know Tony doesn't want to be found yet,” Natasha acknowledged, “I still need to make sure his friends are safe. Do you understand?”

Alfie blinked a red light, so she tried again, “please go stay with Clint until I can come back to be with him and help him. I need to check on other people right now, so I can't go back to Clint just yet. That's why I need you to help him.”

That time, Natasha received the affirmative green light. “Thank you, Alfie,” she said, lying down, “I'm going to sleep now and in the morning, I'll give you the coordinates of your destination before I board the plane.”

The bot seemed to be okay with her solution, though there was no real way to tell, and he easily tucked himself under the top blanket a foot away from Natasha. She entertained the possibility that the green light had been a sign of his understanding not agreement, but decided to leave that problem for the morning.

* * *

_10:25 PM_

_Malibu, CA_

_Caller ID: Happy Hogan_

“Happy? Is something wrong?”

“I had an idea, but I wanted your approval before doing anything.”

“I'm listening.”

“How would you feel about me sending out some bills? I'm thinking of testing a hero's insurance coverage.”

“That sounds interesting. But you need to be careful. Chat with Meg from legal; we can trust her.”

“Will do.”

“Come visit soon?”

“Of course.”

_Call Ended 10:29 PM_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning at the Avengers Facility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. More is coming... eventually

The next morning, at the Avengers Facility, the water shut off. Steve was in the middle of a shower at the time, and had shampoo in his hair. Hitting the wall, and messing around the the faucet, he determined that the shower was useless, deciding to wash out his hair in the sink. As it turned out, no water was coming from the sink either.

Steve did his best to towel the shampoo out, and got dressed, exiting the bathroom. “Something is wrong with the water in my bathroom,” he complain, scratching at the soapy remnants in his hair as he entered the kitchen.

Clint was sitting at the island, next to Wanda, Scott still hadn't returned from visiting his daughter, and Sam was looking through the fridge. Bucky stood in the corner as usual, and Vision sat in the adjoining living-room, talking quietly with F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Sam shut one fridge in annoyance and began looking through the other and the cabinets, trying to find something with which to make breakfast foods; he didn't find anything he could use.

Eggs: used up at breakfast the day before.

Meat/Fish: used up for tacos and various snacks.

Milk: 2 inches left in remaining gallon jug.

Cheese: half a block of cheddar.

Vegetables: 3 carrots, 1 broccoli crown, and a ½ empty package of frozen green beans.

Fruit: 1 apple and a few lemon slices.

The pantry held only enough oatmeal for one regular person and a mostly empty box of granola. There was however, still coffee.

Finally, Clint answered Steve, gesturing towards a notice pinned to the fridge with a plain silver magnet. It didn't take long to figure out that the water wasn't coming back until F.R.I.D.A.Y. or SI wanted it to. Without water, there was no coffee or oatmeal. Without coffee, Tony would probably have said the world was ending and over-ordered from the nearest decent cafe, but the inventor was gone, so there was simply no coffee. _At least that meant no grounds in the disposal._

“Where did all the food go?” Sam asked.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. decided to answer the question. “The U.N. representatives were given full use of the kitchen and supplies for the duration of their time here. This was also offered to every agent of every organization ordered to be present here in any capacity over the last few days.”

“Who else has been here?” Steve exclaimed, “we can't have just anyone walking in and out!”

All was silent for a moment before the A.I. chose to lift her policy of ignoring the Captain. “I would remind you, Mr. Rogers, that this compound does not belong to you and you have not been given the privilege to place limitations on visitors. There is no 'we'.”

“You also don't have any right to know the identities of said visitors unless they choose to share,” Rhodey added, wheeling himself into the room, “on that note, the U.N. people are coming back today, so I suggest you all clean up.”

Scott too reappeared, looking tired, but happier than anyone present had ever seen him. “How many more meetings do you think there will be?” he asked no one in particular, trying not to sound too whiney.

“As stated yesterday,” Vision replied, “the number of meetings required will vary based on the individual in question.”

“If today's meeting is going to be anything like yesterday's, I'm not going,” Steve said, “those reps are bullies.”

All eyes turned to the supersoldier with varying amounts of surprise, annoyance, indifference, fear, and disdain. It was Rhodey who spoke first. “I realize no one has said this to you yet, Rogers,” he began, “it's time to get your head out of your ass.”

Clint would have laughed, but he was too busy trying to pull his own head out of his proverbial ass to have that right. Vision didn't understand the turn of phrase, but he stayed silent, hoping that someone on “Team Cap” would finally speak up.

“Bully. You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Clint, Sam, Scott, and Rhodey understood F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s reference, and this time, none of them could keep from laughing. Steve appeared angry and confused, while Bucky was impassive as always, Vision was no longer listening, and Wanda was trying to work up the confidence to say something.

“I would like to go to the meeting with the U.N. representatives,” Wanda said finally after a full minute of awkward silence.

Rhodey, appreciating the changes he'd seen in the witch's attitude recently, decided to be gentle with her for the time being. Making someone with powers like Wanda's angry could have very severe consequences, and not just for him. “You don't have to ask for permission,” he told her; she may not have phrased it as such, but her words had certainly sounded like a request.

She took a deep breath, “It is better to ask permission often, rather than going where I am not wanted,” she said slowly, looking to Sam when she had finished speaking.

Sam nodded, giving her a small smile. It might have been an act, but maybe his lecture had gotten through to her.

When it was made clear to everyone that breakfast wouldn't be happening, they all dispersed to prepare for the meeting. Wanda was lucky in that she had a furnished and personalized bedroom at the Facility, because it meant she had a change of clothes. Sam was smart enough to have brought some, as was Scott, but the other humans were left without anything to change into. 

* * *

 

Wearing yesterday's clothes, Steve approached the elevator cautiously. He wanted to speak with Bucky before the meeting, and taking the elevator would be most convenient, but after the previous “malfunction,” he was understandably nervous to try again.

As it turned out, taking the stairs wasn't much better. The lights came on and off randomly and the doors to any level he wanted to access was locked. Descending slowly, Steve thought he might be going crazy. Sounds, faint enough that he wasn't sure if they were real, came at him, whispering unintelligibly, or mimicking the crackle of ice and the rustling of fall leaves. By the time Steve arrived at the floor that held the appropriate meeting room, he was looking around frantically, trying to figure out whether or not he was insane.

Outside the meeting room, in a suitably dark and shadowy corner, Bucky waited for his friend to arrive. There were a few thing he wanted to say to Steve before the meeting began, but he doubted that he would be able to force the words out.

The U.N. representatives came down the hallway before Steve, and nearly missed Bucky's presence. They were startled at first, then the fear set in. He hated how most people were so scared around him, even Steve.

The representatives, along with Scott, were afraid because he was skilled in violence and mentally unstable. Sam was afraid that Bucky was beyond help in the psychological department, and Clint feared any variable that didn't have a fixed place in his world view. Natasha was concered that he would reveal certain parts of her past, and Wanda was scared of what she had seen in his mind. Steve feared that the Winter Soldier would never be fully gone and he would never get “his” Bucky back again.

He wished they all knew that he was just as scared of them as they were of him, though for different reasons.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Fun' times with the UN and a little trip to Rosehill, TN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer than I expected, and I didn't even get to the 'Steve explaining his view' part which I planned to be in this chapter. Still, I hope you like it. 
> 
> Let me know what you think.

This time, the U.N. representatives asked to meet with each person individually, including Rhodey if desired.

Scott went first. It was a quick meeting. They told him that if he were to begin any “superhero activities,” he would be required to sign the Accords, or he would be arrested. He understood. They told him that he would need to accept some responsibility for the property damage that he had caused. He agreed.

They told him that the consequences, if there were to be any, for aiding Captain America aka Steve Rogers would be determined by individual countries, and added that he would be placed on several watch-lists. Scott didn't know how to answer, so the meeting ended.

Before excusing himself, he asked permission to leave the Facility and go live in an apartment near his daughter. He knew the landlord and had done the man more than enough electrical favors to live rent free for the month or so he expected it to take him to find employment. The U.N. representatives were amenable to the plan, so long as he provided them with a valid address. That issue was taken care of when Scott agreed to allow their people to escort him to the front door of the apartment building.

Sam went next. The representatives, being from the U.N., were less concerned about the theft and B&E, and more interested in his role on the team. He didn't know how to describe what exactly he did, beyond “help.”

“Please elaborate, Mr. Wilson,” one representative requested.

Sam sighed. “I train with them, I fight with them, I offer emotional support and counsel whenever I can...” he trailed off.

“How successful have you been at this supposed counseling?”

“There's no way to measure that,” Sam objected, “what I can tell you is that Steve is a good man, and he is just trying to do the right thing.”

“We deal with reality, Mr. Wilson, not intention. Also, this meeting is about you, not Steve Rogers.”

“Right,” Sam agreed tiredly, “what is it you want to do with me?”

The representatives took a minute to discuss a response amongst themselves. “As representatives of the United Nations rather than a particular country, we require a valid address at which you can be contacted and found, but we will leave property damage and other offenses to individual nations. Your alliance with Steve Rogers has not been ignored, and thus, meetings will continue until the issue is fully settled. If you refuse to sign the Accords, you will be retired and any supposedly heroic violation will be counted as the crime it is.”

Sam thought over their response. “Am I going to be arrested if I leave the Facility?” he asked.

“We do not speak for the U.S. government,” they reminded him.

“You may or may not be arrested, but the shoot-on-sight order has been lifted for everyone present, exceptions being the usual for any criminal,” Rhodey chimed in.

Sam didn't know how to respond, so he settled for standing up to exit. Before reaching the door, he turned back, “go easy on Barnes, he's having a hard time, but he's really trying.”

When the representatives didn't respond, Sam left.

Clint entered the room slowly, dreading the meeting. He knew he'd really messed up and he was incredibly sorry for it, but he also knew that he deserved everything that they would do to him. He didn't deserve to see his family or Nat or anyone ever again. He didn't... that was not his decision, it was the representatives'.

His meeting went similarly to the previous two. The requirement of living at a known address caused him incredible anxiety, but he would somehow deal. Natasha had asked him to hold it together, and that he would do for as long as possible.

It was a surprise when the U.N. representatives told him that he would be having twice weekly appointments with a therapist, and he almost started to argue, but a sharp look from Rhodey glued his mouth shut.

Everyone took a quick break, and then it was time for Wanda's meeting. She asked Vision to come, but he didn't agree, so she ended up alone at the end of the table, across from 4 representatives. She didn't particularly want Rhodey there, he hated her, but she knew he was pretty good at explaining things, so she didn't argue. 

* * *

 

The meeting between Wanda and the U.N. representatives took a lot longer than any of the previous ones. They talked extensively about her past and how it influenced her, to the point where she almost-yelled, “I just don't want to be controlled anymore!”

“Then stop trying to save the world,” was the representative's calm response, “if you sign the Accords, you will be controlled to a degree, but if you retire, so to speak, we have no issue with you living peacefully and free.”

“But the Registration Act...” Wanda muttered, not fully comprehending the situation.

“Has been amended quite a lot since you last payed it any attention,” he finished for her, “so long as you keep your... abilities... controlled and pose no more threat and cause no more harm than an un-enhanced individual, your signature is not required.”

“If you do choose to remain an active superhero,” another representative continued, spitting out the 'S' word with controlled disdain, “refusing to sign will result in whatever measures we deem necessary to keep the most people safe.”

Wanda took a moment to think. “Can't I just be normal?” she asked, looking between the representatives and Rhodey.

The colonel shook his head. “Normal can mean a lot of different things, Wanda. Because of your choices in the past, it is unlikely that you yourself will ever be completely normal, but I think you have a chance at a fairly normal life,” he told her, looking to the U.N. representatives for confirmation.

“We are prepared to offer you a deal,” one of the men announced.

When there was no response, he continued. “In exchange for keeping you from serving jail time and allowing you to live unmonitored, we have a number of requirements, some of which can be negotiated, some of which cannot.”

Wanda nodded, concentrating on his words as he listed what she would have to do. “The families of some victims from Lagos among other incidents want to speak with you. Of course, we will offer physical protection for all parties, and you will not be left alone with them for both your safety and theirs. In addition you will be held responsible for an as-yet-undetermined amount of reparations for property damage. You will not use your abilities on or near anyone else without their explicit consent. Lastly, you will be subject to a 3 month probationary period.”

Looking to Rhodey for clarification, Wanda attempted to order the bits she had understood in her mind. “A probationary period, is a set time during which you will be required to check in with a U.N. representative regularly and follow certain special rules. Should you make it 3 months without messing up, all monitoring will be lifted and the aforementioned offer will take affect.”

She nodded. “I think I understand most of it, but what rules will I need to follow during this period?”

One of the representatives began listing all the requirements and special conditions. “Regular sessions with a psychologist. Training on control from an individual with much experience in the area that will last until the Professor decides you have enough control. Checkins with one of us will be every other day by phone, and weekly in person. Finally, you are to have no contact with the Avengers during the 3 month period. That includes Steven G. Rogers, Samuel T. Wilson, Clinton F. Barton, Scott E. Lang, Natasha A. Romanoff, Vision J. Stark, James R. Rhodes, and R. Bruce Banner.”

“I'd like to agree,” Wanda said slowly, “it's going to be hard, but I think it's my only real option. May I please say goodbye to some of the people you mentioned before I leave?”

The U.N. representatives all nodded. “We still have two more meeting to get through today, Ms. Maximoff. If you would keep the details of this arrangement to yourself, you will be given a chance to say your goodbyes before we provide you with transportation to your first meeting with Professor Charles Xavier.” 

* * *

 

With 4 of the meetings complete, only Steve and Bucky were left. Everyone was apprehensive, but Wanda had found a some peace, knowing that she had even the tiniest chance at a future. Scott disappeared, as did Clint, but Sam remained by the conference room door with Wanda, as Steve and Bucky entered. Soon, Steve was sent out for interrupting too often and Sam went in, to offer moral support and interpretation if necessary.

Taking a deep breath, Steve tried to calm himself. He wanted to support Bucky and he wanted to explain himself, but he was beginning to question his beliefs. _Damn the 21 st century. In the 1940's there were many horrible things happening, but at least back then it was clear who the enemy really was._

* * *

Upon touching down in Tennessee, Natasha headed immediately for Rose Hill, which she had learned was a small town.

Finding out about the Extremis incidents and Tony's visit during the Mandarin debacle was easy. Getting the name Harley Keener was slightly more difficult, because she had to weasel it out of a 6th grader named Conner, but finding the Keener household was child's play.

There was an old beat up car in the driveway that was clearly non-functional, but there were signs that another car had been recently parked beside it. The house was fairly unremarkable for the area, but the barn like structure behind it felt a little off.

Natasha decided to start with the front door, and work her way back to the odd barn. Knocking proved useless, so she tried the knob. As it turned out, the door was unlocked, and upon stepping inside, Natasha almost thought the house was empty. Almost.

From several rooms over, she could hear small grunts and the sound of fists colliding with a punching bag. Her presence hadn't been noted, so Natasha took the chance to do a little snooping. She may have decided to stop killing people in cold blood, but she was still a spy through and through.

Natasha's observations yielded several debatably significant conclusions. First, there were at least two school age children living there, and no adult male. The presence of an adult female was possible, but if the kids did have a mother, she sure didn't spend much time at home.

Money was the opposite of tight, and yet it seemed as though food was anything but plentiful, which left Natasha with more questions. It was clear the at least one of the kids was mechanically and robotically inclined and very intelligent given that Conner said Harley was only 11, but the homework on the table was at a high school level. Also, one of the children was very focused on the martial arts, which made Natasha smile for some reason that she couldn't pinpoint.

* * *

Back at the Facility, a small flying metal creature announced his presence to one very startled archer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha meets the Keeners, Clint meets Alfie, and the U.N. meets with Bucky and Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. I'm also open to suggestions/ideas as to where this story is going.

For a moment, Natasha watched Harley's little sister, Tessa, if bone structure and photographs around the house were to be believed, punch and kick at the bag. "You know, if you spread your feat a little wider and bend you knees slightly, your balance will be better, Tessa."

The girl jumped back in surprise, holding her fists up, but unconsciously adjusting her stance. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Natalie. Your brother and I have a mutual acquaintance."

"Is that like a friend?"

"Sort of."

"Harley doesn't have friends. The others don't like him cause he's smarting than them."

Ever the spy, Natasha noticed that Tessa was wearing a strangely high-tech watch. The digital display seemed fairly normal, and the face was decorated with Hello Kitty designs. The band, however, was made of constantly shifting pieces, and could likely do a lot more than the average watch.

It did occur to the Russian that Tony had been wearing something similar before and during the "civil war." "I like your watch," Natasha complimented the girl.

"Thanks," was the soft reply, "it's hello kitty limited edition. Harley's friend borrowed it and added some stuff, but he gave it back so that's okay. He calls it HKTP Mark. 2."

"HKTP?"

"It stands for Hello Kitty Timepiece I think," Tessa replied.

“Is your brother's friend still around?” Natasha asked carefully, “the one that upgraded your watch?”

Tessa bit her lip, trying to decide how to answer. She got the sense that the redheaded stranger, Natalie, would know if she lied. “Bad things happened to him,” she said at last, “he might be gone for a very long time.... But he'll come back. He always does.... and he promised.”

Before Natasha/Natalie could ask anything else, Tessa continued, reversing the flow of conversation. “Who are you really and why do you want to know about me and Harley's friend?”

“I'm looking for him,” the spy answered simply.

“Why?”

Natasha struggled for an answer. How was she to explain to an 8 year old something she wasn't able to explain to herself. She had no idea why she was trying to find Tony. If he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. After what she had done, she had no right to ask for his help with Clint, never mind expect anything. She would be lucky to even find out if the genius was safe and reasonably okay.

A creak of the floorboards by the door interrupted the conversation. “Get away from her!” said the 11 year old boy who had just entered, aiming a very advanced potato gun at Natasha.

“You must be Harley,” she replied, cooler than a cucumber, but not as cold as Russian winters.

“I said: Get Away From My Sister!” Harley repeated, preparing to fire.

Natasha put her hands in the air, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. In reality, she didn't look at all threatening, she was an expert at disguise, but every kid older than 4 knew about “stranger danger.”

Backing away from Tessa, the redhead addressed the boy. “We could talk in the barn, if you like,” she suggested, “that's away from Tessa.”

He agreed, and led her out to the structure, never lowering the potato gun. As Natasha had suspected, the barn wasn't a barn on the inside, it was a workshop of sorts.

Natasha stood there, cautiously surveying the room. It reminded her of Tony's labs, but it was far more organized and less high-tech.

Harley had moved to opposite end of the room, and was glaring at her, but he had put the potato gun down on a table. In one hand, the kid was holding an object that Natasha recognized from watching Tony work on his suits. Though she didn't know exactly how the thing operated, she understood its general function.

"Do you know what that does?" Natasha asked Harley.

"Discourages bullying," he replied with a small smirk.

The redhead almost laughed.

* * *

Clint stayed completely still as the blue light moved across his face and back. The light seemed to be coming from the hovering metal thing that had found him in the air vents. At last, a the blue light disappeared, and a green from a point on the contraption's side began to blink.

It didn't take Clint very long to recognized morse code, so he managed to catch most of what the creature, like all of Stark's creations it felt more like a person than a thing, was saying. “...int Barton. Identity Confirmed.”

“You know who I am,” the archer replied slowly, “but I don't know who or what you are.”

The light resumed communication. “Alfie Potts-Stark. Natasa said to go here.”

Clint recognized the small spelling error as just that, rather than an intentional misspelling. However, despite how cute the little guy was, the archer was a bit suspicious. “Why did you do what she told you to do?” he asked.

“Want Daddy,” the bot answered simply.

“Natasha went to check up on Tony's friends. She doesn't know where he is,” Clint protested before a bit of doubt creeped into his voice, “does she?”

Alfie hovered lower, emitting a soft whine, “liar, liar. Pants on fire,” he blinked out sadly.

The archer hesitantly reached out towards the bot. Alfie moved closer and allowed himself to be petted. As the two headed down the hallway towards the workshop, Clint couldn't help but wonder what the bot was doing at the Facility and what would happen to the little guy when everyone inevitably got kicked out.

* * *

In the meeting room, Bucky sat very still at the end of the table. All eyes were on him, and it made him extremely uncomfortable, but couldn't verbalize it.

“Mr. Barnes,” one of the representatives began, “today we would like to address what will be happening to you going forward. We recognize your lack of control over your actions as the Winter Soldier, however we cannot ignore the body count.”

Sam wanted to protest, but he couldn't find any holes in what had been said. Rhodey appeared quite saddened, but he was also nodding. Bucky didn't say anything.

“We also cannot discount the present threat of your skills combined with unstable mental health,” another representative said, “be that as it may, we are aware that many of your actions following the U.N. bombing were in self defense against the personnel wrongly allowed to shoot you on sight and against certain vengeful individuals. For this reason we are prepared to forgive the incidents during that particular time span, should you accept certain conditions and repercussions that will be discussed later.”

Rhodey wasn't surprised, but he wasn't happy that any death, even that of an armed agent, was being forgiven so easily. He knew better than to say anything. Sam was apprehensive about what conditions and repercussions might be. However, after the last few days, he had learned enough to keep quiet for the moment.

Bucky took a deep breath, staring at the table. “Punish,” he said finally.

“I assure you, we have no intention of punishing anyone,” a representative said immediately, “we want to discuss a solution that will keep the general public as safe as possible and not damage international relations.”

The former Winter Soldier shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Punish,” he repeated miserably.

“That can be addressed later,” another representative broke in, “ right now, we are focused on moving forward and there are other things about which we need to speak with you.”

“We have a potential projection for the next few months. As we share it with you, we will be asking yes or no question. Will you be able to answer effectively, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky nodded at the representatives. “Yes,” he managed to say.

Immediately, they launched into a discussion of a possible future. Each representative would speak for a bit, and after every question, a different one would continue sharing the projection.

“Would you be willing to attend thrice weekly therapy sessions?”

Bucky nodded quickly, hoping that they hadn't seen him wince at the word “session.” In his head, the Soldier part of his brain, where the programming and conditioning still existed, was telling him to kill everyone present and flee. He couldn't bring himself to form words.

“Will you put in effort to heal your mind? Do you believe therapy can help you?” the oldest of the representatives asked quietly.

Taking another deep breath, Bucky tried to speak. “W-want to try,” he struggled out, “help.”

“I think he means that he is willing to put in effort, and he wants to be helped. If therapy could help him, he will do it,” Rhodey explained, looking to Bucky for confirmation which he received.

They continued the questioning, until everyone in the room was exhausted. There was a brief discussion about where Bucky would live, as the U.N. wanted a probation period of 1 year with negotiable monitoring, because the representatives requested a permanent address. Given that Bucky didn't have friends or family in this time, Sam thought it likely that some government force would provide housing so as not to have the former Winter Soldier loose on the streets.

By the end of the meeting, some decisions had been made, while others had not. The U.N. representatives took a break for water, bathrooms, and stretching, and then it was time to begin Steve's meeting; the one that they all most dreaded and most anticipated.

* * *

Steve sat rigidly at the end of the table, not afraid to meet the representatives' eyes. He was going to say what he had planned, no matter what they wanted to talk about. Because that was how Steve Rogers lived his life; he did whatever he believed was right, consequences be damned.

“Before we begin, I have something to say,” he announced.

The U.N. representatives exchanged glances with each other and Rhodey before refocusing on the Captain. They had decided to listen. He explained to them why he refused to sign the Accords or negotiate with the likes of Ross.

He told them about the Nazis and appeasement and living through the Great Depression. He told the story of being a symbol and an icon, but he also told the story of being a scrawny kid from Brooklyn. He talked about loyalty and bravery and friendship; about the dedication and love between individuals that had never returned after the war.

He taught them about the real meaning of freedom and the duty to help others. He shared the story of his transformation and the resulting responsibility to anyone in trouble. Finally, he talked about bullies and the importance of standing up for the little guy.

When he had finished, the room was silent. The representatives as well as Rhodey and Sam, all seemed to be at a loss for words. _They finally understand_ , Steve thought.

“How are you so sure that the little guy always in the right?” One of the U.N. representatives asked him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are lovely,  
> kudos are great,  
> tell me your thoughts,  
> and I will update.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More intense emotions (and an adorable electrocution)

There was no response to the representative's question, so the conversation moved on. First, Steve's words about appeasement were addressed, then they spoke about Steve's childhood. Surprisingly, the representatives were receptive to most of what he said, though they all seemed to have some doubts. Eventually, the conversation turned back to the “little guy.”

“Do you think you're you still the little guy?” one representative asked.

Steve couldn't think of an answer. “Physically no, but I haven't changed that much since before the serum. So... yes.”

“If you haven't changed that much, does that mean you are still an obnoxious kid who picks fights for no reason?”

“There was always a reason!”

“Mr. Rogers, you are no longer the little guy. You are the one people hide from in fear or sometimes bravely defy, now. Are you so unchanged that you decided to pick a fight with the only power you considered greater than yourself, that being the governments of 117 countries and the U.N.?”

After several long minutes of silence, the representative spoke again. “And what makes the little guy little beyond his stature?” he asked.

Steve didn't have a good answer, but he tried anyway. “The little guy is the one who is weak. The one at a disadvantage. The target.”

The female representative shook her head slowly. “You were asleep for a long time, Mr. Rogers,” she began, “these days, the target isn't always the weaker party. Some of those who have been persecuted throughout history have found unity and grown incredibly strong, yet still they are persecuted. Times have changed.”

“I don't buy it,” Steve responded, “I told Erskine and I'll tell you. Bullies are bullies, it doesn't matter where they come from. That doesn't change over time.”

At that point, Rhodey lost his cool. “Are you honestly calling the Nazis, bullies? Bullying is repeated unwanted aggressive behavior involving a real or perceived power imbalance. Beating up a smaller kid in an ally? That is bullying. Name calling and insults and stealing lunch money? That is bullying. But the systematic persecution and murder of ethnic, religious, and otherwise marginalized groups? That's not bullying, that's called genocide.”

“More than 15 million lives,” one of the representatives added, “that wasn't the result of bullying.

 

* * *

 

The meeting with the U.N. went on for another two hours, but overall, it hadn't gone as badly as anyone involved had predicted. Scott was long gone by the time they all gathered in the kitchen to say their goodbyes.

Wanda would be leaving that night and the U.N. had offered her transportation directly to Professor X's designated meeting spot. He had offered her a room at his school, and she reluctantly accepted.

Bucky was set to leave in the morning. He would be taken to a psychological facility in near the US's northern border, where he would live in a controlled environment and get his head straightened out, only being allowed to leave without repercussions when a special group of therapists deemed him fit.

Clint had no idea what he was going to do. His nearest safe-house was several miles away and under a false name, therefore rendering it unfit for use as a valid address. In addition, he had no money and no car, meaning he would be walking the whole way.

Vision had left, presumably heading for another Stark residence, but he didn't stay to say goodbye. Rhodey was set to accompany Wanda, after which he would help get Bucky settled at the facility in North Dakota.

Sam figured that his best option would be to return to D.C., hope that he hadn't been evicted, and look for a job. His main problem was a lack of money and transportation, but he also had difficulty leaving because his inner counselor was telling him to help Steve and Bucky. For the first time in 2 years, he ignored the voice.

After his the end of his meeting with the U.N. representatives, Steve didn't even have the energy to talk. There was so much going on in his head that he could barely see straight. While mulling over what the representatives had said, the super soldier also tried to think about what would happen to Bucky.

Steve didn't like the idea of Bucky being taken away to some remote location by some shadowy U.N. figures, but given that the former Winter Soldier himself approved of the idea, there was nothing Steve could do to change anything.

 

* * *

 

Clint entered the kitchen with Alfie hovering beside him. Scott was gone, but otherwise, everyone was present. Wanda had two large bags with her, presumably holding all of her belongings, and was preparing to leave. Steve was trying to talk to Bucky who was ignoring him, and Sam simply sat at the counter, staring at his hands.

Alfie beeped quickly through the identifications of each person present before homing in on Steve. Suddenly, there was the pop of electricity, static in the air, and the super soldier was on the ground, clutching his chest.

Clint held back his laughter; he had to protect Alfie from Steve's meaty paws. Standing up, Steve looked at the hoverying metal creature. “What is that?” he asked.

“Alfie,” the bot beeped out in morse.

Apparently, the soldier wasn't able to understand, because Clint had to translate, “his name is Alfie.”

“Why did you shock me, Alfie?” Steve asked angrily.

Alfie blinked his light and Clint translated. “Hurt Daddy.”

“Do you mean Stark?” the super soldier asked skeptically.

“Hands are not for hitting,” was all the response he received.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think and what you want to see happen.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and the Keener children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this one gets pretty sad. 
> 
> I hope you like it anyway.

Natasha's conversation with Harley didn't yield much useful information. When projecting a comforting aura didn't work, the Russian tried for threatening, but apparently the kid wasn't afraid of her. She decided to return to the matter of the empty kitchen and the lack of adult presence in the house. “Do you have parents, Harley?”

He didn't answer.

“Why has no one done any grocery shopping?”

Again, he didn't answer.

“It's clearly not a money issue, do you need a ride to the store or something?”

No answer.

“I'll go get you guys some food. I will have to leave soon, but at least I can get you set up for a while. Besides food, what else do you two need?”

Harley gave in. “Tessa needs new clothing,” he muttered, and shoes.”

“Okay. We can get those things,” Natasha replied gently, “do you need anything? Shoes maybe. Or a laptop?”

“If I agree, will you take us to see Mom at the hospital?”

“I will. We can do that first if you want.”

“I'll have to ask Tessa.”

The little girl had questions of her own; both kids knew not to trust strangers, but they were still kids and could be manipulated with relative ease.

“How do we know you won't kidnap us?” Tessa asked.

“You could stay home while I get the food for you?”

“Well, you might still kill us...”

“Why would I do that?”

Tessa fell silent. Harley tried to think up some more questions of his own, but he couldn't. Neither of the kids trusted the stranger, but they needed food and wanted to visit their mother. That, and Tony may or may not have shown them pictures of several people including “Natalie,” with specific instructions in case any of the people showed up. All he'd said about the Russian redhead was that they shouldn't trust her, but that she knew better than to hurt them.

Of all the pictures Tony had showed the kids, the instructions for “Natalie” were relatively tame. The ones given for the pictures of Captain America and his best friend were not quite as forgiving. 

* * *

 

Natasha drove the kids into town, trying to figure out what to do with them when she left. “Does Sta – Tony know that you're mother is in the hospital and can't take care of you?” Natasha asked them, “why isn't he here taking care of you.”

Harley looked to his sister and they seemed to come to an agreement before he answered. “I didn't tell him 'cause he's got so much to be worrying about and she's gonna be fine. He'll come visit when he can.”

“Okay,” she agreed, having gotten a decent amount of information, “but if your mother is in the hospital, how are you paying for everything?”

Again, the kids looked at each other before replying. “Tony takes care of us,” Tessa said.

“But he isn't here.”

Neither of the kids responded, so Natasha tried something else. “I think you should tell him about your mom,” she suggested.

“Why?” Tessa asked suspiciously.

The real answer was that Natasha wanted to find the inventor or at least get a way of contacting him, but that wouldn't sit well with the kids. “You should have someone taking care of you,” she said after a long pause, “Tony could do that while your mom is sick.”

“Why?” Tessa asked again, reminding Natasha why she didn't spend time with small children; well, that and the fact that she was a cold-hearted assassin with a ledger dripping red.

Natasha didn't answer, and for a moment, the car was silent save for the sound of the motor and the tires against the road. Finally, Harley spoke up. “Mom's not sick,” he said quietly, “she's dying.”

“That happens,” the ex-assassin said, “parents die. You move on.”

There was silence in the car for the rest of the ride to the hospital. Natasha parked, and walked behind the kids as they moved slowly towards the building. When they entered, she sat herself in a chair by the door, scanning the room to assess points of weakness and escape routes. It was an old habit that had proved useful too many times to discard.

Harley held Tessa's hand tightly as the two waited in the short line at the reception desk. Neither child had seen their mother in a few weeks, and they were understandably nervous. The exhausted middle-aged woman behind the desk was less than sympathetic. “Again?” she shouted upon seeing them, “give up already.”

Tessa spit out a defiant “no,” which only furthered the woman's anger. To be fair, her job was not easy and she it had been a very long day. “I told you that the next time either of you came here without adult supervision, I would call Child Services,” she said, picking up the phone.

At that point Natasha intervened. “I'm adult supervision,” she announced, coming up behind the kids and startling them.

“I'm going to need valid identification, Ma'am.”

Natasha handed over one of her forged driver's licenses and soon, she, Harley, and Tessa had the appropriate badges and were headed upstairs. 

* * *

 

The woman in the bed was in worse condition than Natasha had expected, though she hadn't really had specific expectations. There was the usual heart and vitals monitor, the ventilator, a few I.V. lines, and a catheter. A quick glance at the chart led her to the conclusion that the woman was “brain dead,” and there was simply no one legally capable of signing the final papers that would lay her to rest.

The scars lining the patient's wrists and arms explained the original hospitalization, and the bandages around her head were probably an indication of the cause behind the “brain dead” state. Even Natasha, who had seen, done, and experienced many horrible things during her childhood, thought it wasn't something any child should have to see.

Tessa climbed onto the bed carefully, taking her mother's hand. Harley moved to the other side of the bed and stood, taking his mother's other hand. Natasha felt like she shouldn't be there, she should leave the room at least, but part of her duty as a “responsible adult” was to supervise.

Harley left the room first, promising to be right outside the door. He was crying quietly, but Natasha didn't comment and Tessa was preoccupied.

“It's me, Mom,” the little girl whispered, “I promised I would come back, didn't I?”

The woman in the bed made no response, and Tessa continued. “We're going to be okay. Don't worry about us, just go to the happy place and sit with the angels, you don't have to work so hard anymore.”

Eventually, Tessa finished saying what she needed to say and pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek before indicating to Natasha that it was time to leave. When they exited the room, Harley decided to go in by himself to say some last words to his mother. Natasha put Tessa in the care of one of the nurses and followed him, slipping into the room quietly. She just managed to catch the last bit of what he was saying.

“I promise, Mom. I'll take care of Tessa and make sure she grows up right and I won't let anyone hurt her. I'll be good and do my homework and make sure Tessa does her's and we'll be okay so you don't have to be sad anymore.”

Soon, Harley too was ready to leave. Instead of going directly to the car, Natasha took the kids to the hospital cafeteria. No one was in the mood to eat, but she got them food anyway. Tessa climbed into Natasha's lap and began to cry into her shoulder as Harley picked at the sandwich in front of him without saying anything.

It was the end and both of the children knew it. It had been coming for a long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to understand, Clint evaluates poor life choices, and Natasha gets on a plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to update this one, I really don't know where it is going or how to wrap up the loose ends. 
> 
> I have considered writing a companion piece about Bucky in therapy, Clint trying to build a new life, Wanda with Prof. X, Steve trying to understand the world beyond military and government, and Natasha figuring out where she belongs.

Natasha took the kids shopping at the nearest mall. Tessa was silent the entire time, refusing to make choices about clothing or shoes. Though Natasha had readied the card Happy had given her, Harley insisted that she use one he produced from his jacket pocket.

While Harley was good about picking out and trying on clothing, Tessa was the opposite. She held tightly to her brother's hand whenever she could, ignoring the surroundings and other people, including Natasha. “What do you think about this shirt?” the redhead asked, crouching down to show Tessa.

The little girl turned her face away, burying it in her brother's jacket. “She likes pink,” Harley said at last, “she'll wear pants, but she likes skirts and dresses better.”

When Tessa offered no confirmation or denial, Natasha gave up, settling on picking out the clothes herself and hoping that they would fit. Following Harley's instructions, they drove home with a lot of pink clothing, though she couldn't help slipping a black t-shirt featuring a red silhouette of the original Avengers, into the bag. Call her nostalgic or sentimental, she'll deny it.

On the way back from the mall, they stopped at a supermarket. Natasha had played many roles throughout her career, but rural/suburban mother was not one of them. Just being in the grocery store with the kids made her uncomfortable; she had no idea what to buy or where to find it. Harley ended up doing the shopping while Tessa and Natasha looked on.

When they got back to the kids' home, Natasha decided it was time to leave. She had several other people to check on before returning to Clint. She was troubled however; she was so angry with him that she wasn't sure if she really wanted to go back.

She waited until both kids were asleep before exiting the house. She hadn't quite made up her mind about what to do with Harley and Tessa's situation, but time was wasting and she would have plenty of time to figure out who to tell, if anyone at all, on the flight to New York. Her next destination was Queens.

 

* * *

 

The Facility felt empty, and it sort of was. Scott and Vision were both long gone, and Wanda had just departed with Rhodey in a U.N. car. Sam was set to leave for D.C. in the morning, and that left only Bucky, Steve, and Clint. And Alfie of course.

They were all sitting around in the common area and an awkward silence settled around them. Alfie hovered by Clint's shoulder, and he too seemed to feel the tension, crackling with static every so often. No one knew how to say goodbye, if they would see each other again, or if they'd even want to. Suddenly, the archer stood. “I wish I hadn't answered your call,” he said to Steve, “I wish you hadn't lied to me.”

“I didn't lie...” the super-soldier protested.

“Yes, you did,” Clint petted Alfie absentmindedly, “you told me Wanda was in danger; that's the only reason I came. A gun to your temple is danger. Trying to enter Afghanistan with an Israeli passport, that's danger. House arrest isn't danger.”

“Look, Barton,” Steve began, “I said what needed to be said to get you to help.”

“That's called lying, Rogers!”

“It was for a good cause...”

“No, it was for him,” Clint flung an arm out to indicate Bucky's spot by the door, “it was for nothing. Barnes is beyond saving!”

“Don't you dare say that,” Steve shouted, obscuring the sound of a quiet whimper coming from the shadows by the door.

Taking a deep breath, Steve tried to calm down; his objective was to pacify Clint and get him to help, not anger him. “Stark went off the deep end,” the super soldier figured it would be best to start at a point of agreement, “something had to be done.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Clint's face was confident though inside he felt anything but.

“Barton, we have to fight this. We can't just let them control-”

Clint gestured vehemently at their surroundings. “They already do,” he stated, “Look around! “We didn't do it back then so it's being done to us now. That's your fault.”

“You were part of it too. We were... are a team! We-”

Alfie emitted a shrill whine as Clint interrupted the Captain, “No. I'm out. You're on your own.”

The bot and the archer exited quickly after that, they would be gone by morning. Bucky and Steve were left alone in the room, Steve on the couch and Bucky by the door. “What are we going to do now, Buck?”

Steve did not receive a response. “After you fell... I didn't think it could get any worse. But it did. They're taking you away, they're taking everyone away.”

Bucky slowly moved out of the shadows to sit beside his friend. “My choice,” he stated, “and your choice.”

After a long pause, Steve looked over at Bucky. “I didn't mean for it to end in a fight,” he said softly, “this wasn't supposed to happen.”

“With you... it always ends in a fight.”

“Buck!”

The two sat silently together. Steve was beginning to wonder if his most important thing, his first priority, was rejecting him.

 

* * *

 

In the workshop, Clint petted Alfie, trying to figure out his next move. He needed an address, and he needed it soon; there was no way Barney and Laura would take him back after all the shit he'd done. Natasha was off trying to find Tony, and though Clint understood her reasoning, he couldn't help but feel abandoned.

Wanda was gone and the archer had never been close with any of the Avengers aside from her, Natasha, and Thor from time to time. Under different circumstances, Clint might have developed a relationship with Tony, but as it was, the archer was intimidated by and jealous of the inventor's intelligence and power.

“Sad?” Alfie blinked out.

Clint thought for a moment before replying. “I guess so, bud,” he confessed, “I'm a little sad and pretty scared.” For some reason, he had no trepidation about showing the bot his weaknesses.

Suddenly, Alfie flew out of the room and down the hall, fast enough that Clint couldn't follow. Sighing, the archer returned to the couch, allowing himself to sink into the happy memories which the workshop provoked.

 

Mocha frosting to the face pulled Clint from his memories. Aflie had returned, and the little bot was trying to balance a very large slice of chocolate cake on smooth metal. It might have worked if the cake wasn't on a ceramic plate. In his rushed and excited entrance, Alfie had managed to keep hold of the plate, but not the cake which went flying into Clint's face.

“What was that for?” the archer complained, pulling the squished cake from his cheek and taking a bite.

“Cake make happy,” Alfie explained

Clint chuckled, finishing off the dessert and moving to a sink to clean up. He wondered how Alfie had managed to get it, and suddenly he had an idea about what to do. He was on his own until Natasha came back, and he had to figure something out. Clint told Alfie what he was planning, and the bot offered acknowledgment but no advice beyond a blinked, “cake?”

Clint lay back on the workshop couch and closed his eyes. He was not proud of what he would do the next day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Clint is planning? Comment with your ideas/theories.
> 
> Let me know what you think and what loose ends you need tied up.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes + a chat between spiders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it's been a long time since i've updated. Trying to write 5 fics at once and do school and work is a bad idea.
> 
> Thanks for your patience

At 4:30 AM the next morning, everyone who was left gathered to say goodbye to Sam. Neither Steve nor Bucky had eaten in a couple days, Clint had eaten the cake that Alfie dropped on his face, and they were all hungry, and uncertain about the future.

Clint settled for a simple handshake, briefly wishing Sam luck before disappearing into the building. Bucky only offered a slight nod before he backed into the shadows. Steve, however, had a little more to say. “Thank you,” he began earnestly, “I appreciate all your help more than you can possibly imagine.”

Sam didn't have a response, so he just nodded, moving closer to the door.

“You stuck with me the whole way...”

“Maybe I shouldn't have,” Sam interrupted softly.

Steve raised his eyebrows, incredulous, “No. You did the right thing.”

Sam hefted his bag higher on his shoulder, shaking his head.

“Don't let this be the end, man. Keep in touch?”

Steve's words were so sincerely hopeful that the other man could almost picture what the super-soldier had been like before the serum. Sam maintained his resolve, “I don't think that's such a good idea.”

“But-”

“I need some space. I gotta figure out some things. I'm sorry,” Sam offered before closing the door behind himself.

Steve stood there, staring at the door, wondering how he'd lost nearly all of his 21st century friends and he was about to lose Bucky. Again.

 

* * *

 

Steve looked all over the building, trying to find Clint. Friday refused to help him, actually he wasn't even sure she was there anymore, and there was no one around except Bucky who had the same amount of luck. Eventually, the two super-soldiers found themselves outside of Tony's workshop. Steve had never gone inside before, but the place reminded him of the inventor and all that had transpired between them.

Steve's hand rested on the door, poised to open it when it slid away of its own accord, and Alfie came flying out. The bot beeped rapidly at Steve and Bucky before flying at top speed out a mysteriously open window. “What was that?” the blonde exclaimed.

“Bank... and money...” Bucky replied slowly, “in morse code.”

“What's that's supposed to mean?”

Predictably, Bucky did not reply.

The two made their way to the common area, Steve seating himself on the central couch while his friend to the armchair in the corner. No words were exchanged and the silence was almost deafening. “It's gonna be alright,” Steve promised, “I don't know how, but I'll get you out of there.”

Bucky shook his head slightly, but otherwise showed no indication that he was even listening. Steve continued, beginning to ramble. “It just ain't right, Buck. Them locking you up and sending everyone away. Why don't they understand? We were doing the right thing, helping people, saving them; if no one fights for good then it ceases to exist. We gotta stand up! Look, I know some people got hurt, but in the long run, we saved so many lives that it justifies the trade; we can't save everyone and they should know that. I can't believe it! The government is wrong sometimes, we can't let them control us! They don't want to save lives... I don't know what they want. Remember during the war, how I came to get you from that lab? They told me not to! They said the risk wasn't worth it, but it was! And now they're doing the same thing, trying to stop us from saving people, going after you instead. It's not your fault! It's Hydra! And they can't tell the difference between their people and the Hydra people anymore; look at S.H.I.E.L.D.! They have no right to blame you-”

“Stop,” Bucky whispered just loudly enough to be heard, interrupting Steve, “please stop.”

“I just don't like them sending you off to the big house,” Steve took a deep breath, “It wasn't your fault, Buck!”

“I can't trust my own mind, Stevie.”

“You ain't certifiable, you're getting better.”

“I'm shot,” Bucky looked up at his friend, “I can't go on like this, I need help.”

“Oh Buck,” Steve sighed.

The two men sat in silence for the next hour, at which point a car came to collect Bucky. They hugged, but neither had any words. Due to the difficulties of travel for the physically disabled, Rhodey was already at the facility to which Bucky would be taken, getting all the appropriate details sorted out. Steve wasn't too thrilled about the number of heavily armed guards were present to escort Bucky away, but he knew better than to fight. “This is what Bucky wants,” he repeated to himself like a mantra.

With Bucky gone, Steve had little else to do at the Avengers Facility. Correction: former Avengers Facility. As property of Stark Industries, Steve had no idea if and how the building would be repurposed. All that was left of the super-soldier's things from his time there had been packed into a plain duffle which Steve slung over one shoulder as he left. He had just enough money for a train ticket to D.C. where he would hopefully be able to stay at his old apartment, but first he had to walk to a train station.

The station was noisy and crowded as always, everyone hurrying to their own destination, ignoring the American icon trying to find the right platform. Much like his first experience in New York City, Steve was overwhelmed by the number of screens and electronic displays he could see. Many of them showed reporters from all over, taking in many different languages, but all about the same thing.

 

 **BREAKING:** J.P. Morgan Chase  & Co. Headquarters robbed of nearly $3 million in one night!

_Investigation is ongoing but the authorities aren't optimistic due to a lack of any evidence._

 

* * *

 

As Peter Parker exited his high school, he caught sight of a crazy car parked a block down. He couldn't help his excitement. _Mr. Stark is back_ , he thought, running home, _he's okay!_ Opening the apartment door, Peter expected to find Tony sitting with Aunt May, politely trying not to eat her backed goods. He was decidedly unhappy to find the Black Widow, Natasha Romanov herself, in the kitchen having a staring contest with his aunt.

It took everything Peter had in him not to scream at the intruder. He didn't want to expose himself to Aunt May, she worried enough as it was, but he was pissed. “What's going on?” he asked carefully, putting down his bag.

“This is Natalie Rushman,” May introduced, not hiding the resentment in her tone, “apparently after 8 months, the city has a problem with those solar panels that we've got. Something about codes and regulations.”

“W-What's wrong with them?” Peter stuttered, putting down his backpack.

May spoke before “Natalie” had the chance. “Don't worry about it, honey. I've already made the calls. Her boss is checking the regulations as we speak.”

“Maybe if the designer of the solar panels could tell me some more about how they work, we could come to an understanding,” Natasha interjected smoothly, “I'm sure all this fuss is unnecessary.”

“Um, sure, sure,” Peter mumbled nervously, he wasn't to get the woman away from his aunt, but he wasn't to keen on being anywhere near the Black Widow himself either.

“Why don't you show me the way.”

As he led Natasha away from the kitchen, Peter couldn't help checking over his shoulder every other step. When they were finally out of May's hearing range, he turned around to face the red head, his glare somewhat dampened by his nervousness. “W-Why are you here? Are you gonna kill me? I know what you did to Mr. Stark.”

“And what exactly did I do to him?”

“You left him! Betrayed him! It might have been the metal-armed guy and Captain I Know Best who were actually in Siberia, but it's still on you.”

Natasha hummed a bit, but she didn't answer. “Friday told me what happened! I saw him!” Peter was just short of yelling, all nervousness gone.

“So you've spoken with Stark recently then?”

This time it was Peter who didn't respond. Natasha waited patiently for all of 5 seconds before she spoke up again. “Where is he?” she demanded.

Peter shrugged and he seemed to deflate, “dunno,” he mumbled.

“Do you need anything? Homework help? Money for bills? Equipment? Intellectual stimulation?”

He was so stunned by the dramatic change in topic, that it took Peter several moments to formulate a response. “Ummm, no?”

“Well then, I think we are done here,” Natasha moved back towards the kitchen.

“No!” Peter's outburst surprised even himself.

The redhead turned around expectantly, not saying a word. “I want an explanation,” Peter demanded, “how could you betray Mr. Stark like that? How could you let them do that to him?!”

He took a deep breath. “How could you keep that video a secret from him?” he added softly.

“I made a mistake,” Natasha replied simply, keeping her expression blank, “now I deal with the consequences.”

Peter just stared at her, unable to make his mouth work. “What did you two do last time you saw him?” Natasha asked.

“Portland Symphony, he's friends with a cellist,” Peter mumbled, but the ex-assassin had disappeared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think and want! I especially want to know what y'all are thinking about Nat.
> 
> This story should be wrapped up in the next 1-2 chapters, but I have some ideas about little spin-off fics if anyone is interested.
> 
> Also let me know if any clarification is needed - I don't know if my references/hints are too vague.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where did they end up: Scott, Clint (pt.1) , Sam, and Wanda (pt.1)
> 
> \+ Natasha cameo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a fairly short update, sorry it has been so long. 
> 
> We are nearing the end of the story, but I still have a few surprises in store.

“Welcome to Evergreen Market! How can I help you today?” the girl behind the register maintained her cheerful attitude, even 5 hours into saying the same 10 words repeatedly.

She continued smiling until her gaze landed on the next customer. At that point, her mouth curved into a little “o” shape and her eyes widened. She didn't say anything, simply staring at the customer as she blindly reached for his groceries.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, more harshly than he'd intended.

The cashier tapped on her screen nervously. “Ummm...” she began, unable to answer the question.

She had finished ringing up the groceries before she spoke again. “Supervisor!” she called, her voice taking on a panicked edge.

An older man with a clipboard came over quickly. He seemed to assess the situation and then stepped in to take the cashier's place. “Go take your break,” he instructed her.

The girl made her escape and the supervisor completed the cash transaction. “Please come with me,” he said, handing over the receipt and heading for the Customer Service desk.

“Mr. Barton, with all due respect, I have to ask that you not return here. Your presence is quite upsetting to both our employees and our customers. My apologies,” the supervisor didn't seem to be the slightest bit apologetic as he handed over a copy of The Seattle Times, “No charge.”

Looking down at the picture of his face on the front page accompanied by the heading “Heroes Turned Criminals,” Clint realized all the other customers were staring at him. He grabbed the bag of groceries and practically ran from the store.

 

* * *

 

When Clint got back to the apartment, he set the groceries down and leaned heavily against the wall, letting the weight of reality crush him. The newspaper had fallen from the bag, leaving the archer with an inescapable view of his own face along with Steve's, and Wanda's. The photos of Scott and Sam were smaller, but still present; Bucky got his own article.

The apartment was small to say the least. The floor was cracked linoleum tile and the walls may have been painted white once, but now they were something between gray and brown with scuff marks and little holes scattered across the surface. A mattress had been pushed to the farthest corner and a thin sleeping bag took the place of sheets or blankets. A rickety card table and folding chair occupied another corner, with a mini-fridge and a microwave standing against the wall.

A ratty duffle bag sat next to the mattress, doubling as a closet, and the cardboard box by the fridge served as a pantry/cupboard. A laptop sat on the mattress along with a wireless router, and a stash of knives and guns were hidden beneath.

Behind a door to one side was the bathroom, consisting of a rusty toilet, a broken sink, a tiny shower, and what had once been a towel rack. Under the sink sat a first aid kit and a prescription bottle full of white capsules. The label had been peeled off for the most part, but enough was left so that the contents could be identifiable.

Clint had thought that $3 million would be enough, but he hadn't been working alone, so he only got 35% of the total. Still, $1,050,000 should have set him up comfortably for a bit, but after paying off guards and buying plane tickets, supplies, and false papers, he only had rent for the next month or so.

Surprisingly, having your face plastered on the front page of every major newspaper made it difficult and expensive to stay hidden. In addition, he'd had a freaked out in public, dropped his wallet and been unable to return for it, subsequently losing a few hundred dollars. Replacing his hearing aids had put a serious dent in his funds, as had the delicate procedure to remove the tracker embedded in his neck. Having no medical insurance of any kind made the procedures expensive, and bribing medical professionals to keep them quiet cost even more. Even the hardest of drug dealers were less demanding than doctors, or so Clint found; something about risking their licenses and careers.

Even with the amount he'd spent on them, Clint's new hearing aids were nothing compared to the Stark Industries prototype he'd been using a year earlier. In fact, he didn't hear the person ascending the stairs until there was a knock on the very thin door. For a split second, he hoped it was Natasha, but she would never have knocked. Still, he desperately wanted to see the redhead; she'd be angry with him about the pills and everything else, but she would still help him get it together... probably...

The apartment was too cheap to have a peephole in the door, but Clint had carved a little hole in the wood to act as one. It didn't have the glass that would magnify the image, but it still allowed him to see the landlord on the other side. Tucking a loaded gun into his pants for easy reach, Clint slid the deadbolt out of the way and opened the door. “Learn to empty your fuckin' mailbox,” the man rasped, the scent of his last cigarette reaching Clint's nostrils.

The archer took the pile of mail that the landlord gave him and quickly shut the door, locking it as he watched the man lumber off down the hallway. Scanning the envelopes, Clint's heart began to beat faster than he thought possible, his breath coming in little puffs and his palms turning clammy. The mail consisted entirely of bills. Stark Industries, Leipzig/Halle Airport, Bürgermeisteramt von Schkeuditz, Polizei Sachsen, U.S. Department of Treasury: Internal Revenue Service...

Clint passed out.

 

* * *

 

It was raining in Portland. Unsurprising but still disappointing to a degree. It wasn't that Natasha particularly liked sunshine, but it did tend to cause fewer problems than rain or snow. She was more of a slightly-cloudy midnight kind of person anyway.

Traffic was slow because of the rain and because it was rush hour. Sure, New York City or Boston rush hour was worse, but still. Natasha had tickets to an evening Portland Symphony concert, but at the rate she was moving, she wouldn't get there in time for the finale, much less have time to sneak backstage and track down a particular cellist. Apparently, even the infamous Black Widow gets stuck in traffic.

She wasn't surprised by the agents tailing her and she knew better than to go anywhere important without figuring out who they were and what they wanted, but she was impatient to move out of the city. Tony wasn't here, only the possibility of information about him. Noting that her tail was moving in characteristic SHIELD formation, Natasha decided that they were likely ex-SHIELD agents looking for some revenge for the information dump; she didn't blame them. Leading them away from populated areas and into a back alley, she hoped that it wouldn't end in a fight, knowing that it probably would.

Putting her back to the wall, Natasha turned to face the approaching agents. “What do you want?” she asked; if she'd learned anything from her involvement in the Avengers “civil war,” it was to talk first and punch later.

An hour later, Natasha left the alley with two broken ribs, a bloody nose, a black eye and surrounding lacerations, a sprained wrist, a split lip, three dislocated fingers, and bloody knuckles; the agents hadn't wanted to talk.

 

* * *

 

They were all late on their first payments except for Clint and Scott. That was probably because they were stealing the money whereas the rest were either too moral or not skilled enough or both, to do so.

Scott was technically late on the payment, but he managed to send it in before any warnings came in the mail. He couldn't get his job at Baskin' Robbins back and was also rejected by several fast food chains. Finally, he found work at a sketchy automotive shop. He was an electrical engineer, not a mechanic and most of his job could be filed under the description, “helping out,” but it was a job. Once a month, he got to see Cassie, but not for very long; Maggie didn't think he was a good influence on the little girl and frankly, Scott couldn't disagree.

It wasn't long before he started stealing again. He kept the jobs small, he knew the consequences of getting caught. Additionally, his time in prison and as Ant-Man had dulled his skills and over that time, security tech had been dramatically upgraded. Scott could barely make ends meet and he didn't get to see his daughter as frequently as he would have liked, but he knew that he'd done this to himself.

 

* * *

 

Wanda had no money with which to pay the bills and no employable skills. The mutants at the school to which the U.N. sent her, hated her. Some yelled at her, but most just ignored her existence. Others avoided her like she was a bomb that could explode at any moment. After a week and a half there, she had had enough. It was time for her to go home. No one tried to stop her leaving the U.S. - the trouble began when she tried to enter Europe.

International travel can get a little tricky when one has no passport and is a known mass-murderer.

 

* * *

 

Sam tried to get his job at the VA back but they wouldn't have him. Though he wasn't as well know as Steve or even Wanda, his name had gotten around and no one would hire him. His one solace was that he still owned his condo. For an entire month, Sam didn't have electricity or heating, but he had a roof over his head and clothes on his back for which he was grateful.

Eventually, Sam found employment with The Department of Child & Family Services. A year or two earlier, he might have thought himself above being the live-in adult of a boys group home, but a lot had changed in the last few years. The pay wasn't great, the home housed at least 4 teenagers at any given time, and Sam was consistently late on his payments to repair the damage he'd had a hand in causing, but he was really trying to right his wrongs and do good. Sure, he missed running around with Steve, saving the world and all, but now he was aware of the consequences.

A few months into his job at the group home, Sam placed a call to James Rhodes. He apologized again, profusely, and for once didn't try to justify his actions. Most importantly, he agreed to sign the Accords on the condition that he would only be called on in the event of something like the New York incident of 2012. He was denied access to the Falcon technology until such an event occurred.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best guess - Ch. 19: Clint (pt. 2), Natasha, Wanda (pt. 2), and Pepper (pt. 1)
> 
> Best guess - Ch. 20: Bucky, Tony, and Steve  
> Also Pepper (pt. 2), Rhodey, and the Keeners.
> 
> Please don't hold me to it, this is just a potential breakdown of the next 2 chapters.
> 
> Let me know what you think.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint, Natasha, Pepper, and Tony.  
> \+ Alfie and Guardians cameos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of self-harm during Clint's section.

Natasha left Portland without finding the cellist. Her next stop was Seattle to check in on Clint. She might have been pissed at him beyond imagining, but she would always owe the man her life, so she swallowed her anger and picked the lock of his crappy apartment.

She found him passed out on a dirty mattress, a gun tucked into the back of his pants and a half full bottle of whiskey in one hand. It didn't take her long to find the pills under the sink and the knives tucked into the mattress. Though she was expecting it, Natasha couldn't help a small gasp when she pulled up his pant leg to reveal rows of cuts, sticky with dried blood.

Rolling him on his side to make sure he wouldn't choke, Natasha carefully cleaned the blood off of Clint's calves. The pills went down the toilet, the whiskey was tucked away in her bag, and the bloody towel was left to soak in the sink. Beside the archer's head, Natasha left a note.

There was little else she could do for Clint; she hadn't been the one to fix him last time. Though probably in vain, Natasha hoped that upon his return, a certain someone would be able to help Clint and more importantly, willing to do so.

Clint woke up with his face pressed into a dirty mattress and a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. He was unsurprised to find that the whiskey and the pills were both gone, Natasha had been there. Though he wished she had stayed with him, he understood why she didn't. He was too far gone to ever be useful again.

Opening the laptop beside him, Clint watched the news program he'd left playing when he'd passed out, too tired to switch tabs or even turn off the volume.

“The United Nations will not intervene,” the reporter stood on East 48th Street, the U.N. headquarters looming behind him, “the released statement references Article II of The Charter of the United Nations, but is quite limited. Representatives refuse to comment further.”

The reporter was soon replaced with three people sitting behind a rounded desk. “I think we can assume that they're talking about the policy of 'non-intervention in domestic affairs,'” a woman in a yellow dress was speaking.

“I don't see what else it could be,” replied the man to her left, “but the real question here is what action will be taken by the people. Both the U.N. and the Sokovian government have played all their cards. Legally, what's done is done.”

“The official statement from Sokovia is that the officer was acting in self defense and in defense of civilians,” the the other man supplied.

“But is that really the truth?” the woman asked, “It's no secret that Wanda Maximoff was despised by most of the country. #burnthewitch has been trending on and off in Sokovia since the incident for which the Sokovia Accords are named.”

“Let's ask him,” the screen switched to show the officer in question with a different reporter than before; a man looking suspiciously like a lawyer stood silently in the background.

“She entered the country illegally and proceeded to use her...powers... to incapacitate anyone who tried to stop her. She was putting people in danger. Children!” the officer was saying through a translator.

“Some say that she was mentally ill,” the reporter offered.

“I didn't know that-” the officer began before he was interrupted.

“Would it have changed your decision?”

“No! I was protecting the civilians in the area. That's my job.”

The footage cut back to the three people at the desk. “How about that?” one of them muttered.

“That's certainty something,” another said.

“We'll be back after the break, hearing opinions on the topic from people around the world.”

He slammed the laptop shut as the ads began, falling back into the mattress. Not for the first time, Clint wished he was dead, cursing himself for being too much of a coward to end it all.

 

* * *

 

After visiting Clint, Natasha returned to Malibu, Happy and Alfie meeting her at the airport. The bot seemed happy to see her, but SI's head of security was just barely cordial. She had no idea how they had know her flight information, but she didn't bother questioning it; it didn't matter.

Arriving at Tony's rebuilt mansion, Natasha found Pepper in the living-room, working on stuff for S.I. As it turned out, the ex-assassin had been played; the CEO was hadn't signed over the company and was in complete control of the Extremis inside her. Natasha knew that she'd allowed herself to be tricked; something in her had known that Pepper was lying and ignored it.

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“What do you want, Rushman?” Pepper's voice sounded like sharp ice.

Natasha was silent for a moment, unsure quite how to respond. “To help,” she said eventually, “to wipe out the red.”

“There's too much red in your _ledger_ to ever wipe out,” Pepper sneered, in an elegant and dignified way, “nothing you could do would ever make up for the damage you've caused.”

“I know.”

Alfie made a soft 'ding' as he settled on Pepper's lap. “Spy lady stay?” he beeped out.

The CEO petted the bot but didn't reply until Alfie let out a plaintive whine and slowly asked her, “please spy lady stay?”

“Fine,” Pepper gave in, turning to Natasha, "if anything goes wrong, you will regret it.”

“I have no doubt,” the Russian replied.

 

* * *

 

It was late afternoon when Peter Quill's Milano landed in an almost empty Tennessee field. The ship's “crew” said their goodbyes to one Tony Stark before opening the doors and watching him walk away, hoping that they would see him again. Peter himself had decided not to visit his home planet for very long, declaring that he wasn't “ready” yet, but Tony's decision to stay on Terra still made his heart ache a little.

“You are a fine warrior, Iron Man. Anyone who dares oppose you shall quake in fear,” Drax told the genius, clapping him on the back a little too heavily.

“It was great having you man,” Peter offered Tony a hand and getting hugged instead, “thanks for updating my audio system.”

“My pleasure, Starlord,” Tony replied, picking up his bag, “I uploaded a bunch of new music once we got within range of an SI satellite. You better listen to it...”

“Don't get yourself killed, Tony Stark,” Peter couldn't help but chuckle at Gamora's peculiar way of saying goodbye to the inventor.

“He's too stubborn for that,” Rocket commented from where he was leaning casually against the wall, “next thing you know, he's gonna make himself immortal out of spite.”

“I am Groot!”

Tony turned around, for a second. “I'm gonna miss you too, buddy,” he told Groot.

The Guardians watched the inventor walk off, not returning to the Milano until they saw Tony gather two young children and a strawberry-blonde woman into his arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Next chapter will probably be the last, and my best idea of it is: Wrapping up Steve, Bucky and Tony's storylines with possible cameos from others.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrap up of Bucky and Steve's storylines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the fic. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.

Steve used the last of his money to buy coffee, drinking it slowly as he wandered through Brooklyn. He had nothing and no one and a comparatively bleak future. He'd swallowed his pride and participated in a school fitness challenge video to pay last month's rent, but next month's presented a new challenge, especially with bill payments hanging over his head.

Publicity work was dried up, as details of the “Avengers' Civil War” were declassified. Steve had no employable skills beyond his physique, and no qualifications or references. He was able to do some modeling, he had no dignity left to spare by that point, but even then work was sporadic and limited because no one wanted his face on their posters or in catalogs. Sometimes he got work as a bouncer, but that was difficult as well because he couldn't be anywhere that people would see his face with regularity.

Being impossible to support at full capacity, Steve's diet became very limited, and he got used to being constantly hungry. The feeling reminded him of back before the war, before he was Captain America, when food was always scarce and he was always sick. This time though, he was completely alone; his mother was long gone, and Bucky was off being rehabilitated somewhere secret and far away.

One night, Steve found himself staring at a phone that some club-goer had dropped, considering calling Tony. Around the same time that the phone's owner returned, he realized that he didn't know what number to call. He didn't actually expect the genius to pick up anyway; no one had seen Tony in months.

Eventually, the U.N. got in touch about a new threat facing the world. They provided transport and information about a crazy alien called Thanos, but also reminded him of his late bill payments. The Avengers were getting back together, sort of, but Steve was informed that he would not be the leader anymore; one representative even made a snide remark about him being the most expendable member of the re-formed team. He was grateful for anything really, but he couldn't block out a hauntingly familiar voice in his head whispering, “how the mighty have fallen.”

 

* * *

 

“Your full name is James Buchanan Barnes, correct?”

“Yes.”

“May I call you James?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand the confidentiality agreement and the exceptions to it as they have been explained to you?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. I am going to start by asking you questions pertaining to your medical and psychological history. If you feel uncomfortable answering particular question, let me know and we can skip them.”

Bucky did not respond and the doctor continued. “Let's start with why you are here,” she said, “what do you think we should talk about?”

“I killed people.”

“Is that why you are here?”

“Didn't.... mean to.”

“You didn't mean to kill anyone?”

“I... I don't know.”

“Let's talk about something else? Do you have any history of mental health conditions that you know of?”

“No.”

“Have you had or do you currently have thoughts about hurting yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Please elaborate,” when Bucky didn't reply, the doctor continued, “do you currently have thoughts about hurting others?”

“No.”

“Do you remember having any issues in childhood? It is completely okay if you don't.”

Bucky shrugged and then shook his head. He hoped they would take him back to his cell soon. After a long pause, the doctor spoke again. “What do you hope to get out of this? Psychotherapy, I mean.”

“Free...”

“You want to be free?”

“Yes.”

“From what?”

 

* * *

 

A far away prince.

An angry scientist.

A dead witch.

A forgotten archer.

A confused ex-assassin.

A guilty spy.

A cause-less soldier.

A betrayed inventor.

 

They weren't a team. They were a time bomb.

But what is left after a bomb explodes?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> I'm considering writing a companion that is focused on Bucky in therapy, but I'm not sure.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


End file.
